


Light and Dark and Shadow

by wood_c_thrush



Series: Who Is Ryan Green? [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta Bucky Barnes, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2018-10-03 01:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 73,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10232504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wood_c_thrush/pseuds/wood_c_thrush
Summary: After a life of constant, careful secrecy, Ryan is exposed.  Someone tried to kill the Avengers, tearing her apart from her new mates and forcing her to run for her life in the process.  The farther she goes, the darker the secrets she uncovers become.All she ever wanted was to be normal.  Now, faced with losing everything and everyone she's ever loved, Ryan struggles to stay in the light, as the shadows of her past threaten to eclipse her future.





	1. In Which Ryan Makes a New Friend

 

**~~\-----------------------~~ **

 

_Tha-thump._

_Tha-thump._

_Tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump –_

**~~\-----------------------~~ **

 

_“Ryan, run!”_

 

 

**~~\-----------------------~~**

 

Sirens blared down the street as she hurtled up.  Her lungs burned with each gasp.  In.  Out.  Keep going, keep going, they’re coming –

Around a corner she smacked into a horde of people.  She shoved them aside, some with hands and some with a thought.  Screams echoed in her wake.  Pointing hands, horrified faces lit blue from the light flooding from her eyes.  She tore onward, streetlights exploding overhead before she ducked into an alley.

In.  

Out.

Keep going, keep going, can't slow down or they'll -

"Hey, you!  Stop!"

 

**~~\-----------------------~~ **

 

 

_Five men teams, six traveling north and three backups ESW.  Glocks with silencers, tasers, shock cuffs.  She has a narrow head start, if she makes it to Lexington and East she'll most likely try to cut west and hide in the park -_

_That'll get her killed,_ Steve thought back,  _she knows how to live on the street, not on the run -_

Bucky shot another quick glance around.  Unmarked SWAT teams swarmed the crushed hornet's nest of what used to be the Edwin Hotel.  The rest of the team muttered low around them, the man in dark suit just standing.  Watching.  They were trapped.   _They'll shoot on sight, but not to kill - she's too valuable.  These aren't FBI, CIA, or Homeland, we don't know where they'll take her.  We have to get to her first._

_Safe houses?_

_Kept one, but it's in the Kitchen, it's the wrong way.  Wait, shit, Nat's got a place by Pelham Bay in the Bronx -_

_Ryan blasted a path through the rubble.  I'll take east.  Regroup at Yankee Stadium by 0600.  Don't get shot._

_You, too._ They met eyes, ice-cold steel in Steve's gaze.  He nodded, then thought, _Three, two, o_ _-_  

A hand gripped his arm, and he almost snapped it in half, slamming the mental line to Steve shut.  "Hey!" Clint hissed, eyes wide.  "I have no fucking clue what you're planning, but don't!  You're gonna get her killed!"

Steve slowly raised one eyebrow, an edge to his scent screaming  _danger_.  "Do not tell me how to keep my mate safe, Barton."

Clint shushed him almost frantically, eyes darting back to the man in the dark suit.  He still hadn't moved, a contemplative look on his face.  "Please," he whispered, too quiet for anyone without super hearing to register.  "I care about her too, you know that.  She'll be fine, I swear, but don't send any more men after them."

"Them?"

"Gentlemen!" Tony called out.  His arms flew open wide, the bravado dampened by his singed metal glove clanking to the ground.  "We're currently experiencing some technical difficulties with our firewall, if you would please check back later after we've put it out - "

"Anthony Edward, that is too fucking soon!" Pepper hissed, hurrying forward to the man in the dark suit.  "Sir, I'm Virginia Potts, CEO of Stark Industries - "

The man held up a hand, and she fell silent.  He stepped past her, eyes fixed on Bruce, who stood deathly still.  A smile slowly spread across his face.  Bruce looked rather green, but not in the Hulk way.  His hands clenched at his sides.  

Then, the man chuckled, and turned away.  

"Captain Rogers," he called, and Steve straightened up.  "It's past time we met, son.  General Thaddeus Ross, U.S. Secretary of State."

Steve snapped to attention, seemingly on reflex.  "Sir."

"At ease."  He strolled forward, hands held behind his back.  "I will personally be overseeing the investigation into this act of terror.  Anyone who targets American heroes and allies will, of course, be brought to justice."  He paused, looking around.  Firefighters blanketed the rubble with water, police barked orders at the crowds, and men with guns circled, fingers resting on triggers.  "Can I expect the full cooperation of the Avengers in this matter?"  

From the look on his face, it was only phrased as a question.  Steve stared coolly back, then his eyes flickered to Clint.  He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Steve's jaw tightened.  But after a moment, he held out a hand.  "Justice under the law is all we want, sir."

General Ross gripped his hand.  "Excellent.  You will all be debriefed shortly.  My men will escort you to the cars."  He turned around, striding back to his own SUV.  Just before he got in, he called back, "Don't worry, Captain.  I mean all of you." 

 

**~~\-----------------------~~ **

 

Ryan stopped short.  A man in black Kevlar appeared out of nowhere, gun trained on her heaving chest.  He jerked his head toward the ground.  "Get down!  On your knees, hands behind your head!"

She slowly raised her hands, shaking wildly and shining blue.  "Please," she rasped, "don't."

"On the ground!"  He cocked the gun, and she startled back.  "Now!"

"Don't make me," she whispered.  "Please."

"Last chance!" he barked, and her stomach dropped.

Suddenly, a shadow flew down from above.  The gun clattered to the ground, a pair of thighs wrapping around the man's throat.  Half a second later, he collapsed.  

Then, the shadow straightened up, and a streetlamp caught a shock of scarlet hair.

"Natasha," Ryan breathed, knees going weak.  "Nat, oh my god - "

Natasha yanked her back up, pulling her towards the street.  "First rule of going on the run: walk, don't run."

"Where are we - "

"Second rule, stick to crowds.  Third, do everything I say."  She tugged them into an alley, pushing her against the wall.

"I fucking hate dresses," she muttered, digging down into her cleavage.  She pulled out a switchblade, and Ryan yelped in surprise as Nat suddenly grabbed her skirt and ripped the blade clean through.  Ryan was left in an obscenely short miniskirt as she did her own.  "What the fuck - where are your shoes?"

"I can't run in heels!" 

Nat rolled her eyes.  "Rule number four - don't lose your fucking shoes," she growled, then grabbed Ryan's hand and pulled it around her shoulders.  

"Oh my go-od!" she yelled in a high voice, startling her.  Nat stumbled forward, giggling as she pulled them back down the street.  A few passers-by gave them odd looks, but the freedom of movement was already worth it.  "Your shoes got _stolen_?"

"What're you do - !" Ryan hissed, and Nat tapped the side of her temple.  Ryan stared, and Nat very clearly held back another eye-roll.  She tapped her temple again, then gestured with her head at Ryan, clearing her throat.  

_Oh.  Oh!_  Ryan blinked, then tightened her grip on Nat's shoulders, focusing for a moment.

_\- od if you can hear me._

Ryan nodded, just a bob of her head as they slipped into a crowd crossing the street.  

_Don't talk.  We're drunk, we're stumbling home, just laugh when I do.  Nod again if you understand._

She nodded, and Nat directed them east, babbling about an Omega she'd apparently hooked up with at the club.  She snorted, and Ryan faked a snigger as best she could.  She had no idea where they were, but Nat seemed to have a destination in mind, her thoughts whirling at a hundred miles an hour.  Ryan stuck to the surface ones, eyes glued to the sidewalk as they turned left this time, heading north.

Natasha's thoughts turned alert, the undercurrent suddenly silent.   _Two men coming from behind._

"Shit, what do we - mmph!"

Nat suddenly shoved her against the side of a building, slotting a leg between her thighs.  She giggled, high and girlish, then grabbed Ryan's face in her hands and crushed their lips together.

Ryan froze, staring wide-eyed at Natasha's face smushed into hers.  Nat pressed even closer, bodies lined up against the wall.   _Kiss me back!_

Instinctively, Ryan opened her mouth, kissing her back like she would Steve.  Nat's Alpha scent was wrong, all wrong, but she ignored it as Nat fake-moaned.  Behind them, the sound of running footsteps rushed by.

A moment later, Natasha pulled back, eyeing her with surprise.   _You're a way better kisser than Rogers._

"Wait, what?"

Nat didn't answer, only smirked as she linked their arms together.   _H_ _alf a mile further.  We can stay a few hours, then catch a red-eye train._

Ryan wanted to ask a million questions - where were they going, who were these guys, why a train of all transport - but she kept her mouth shut.  They paused for a crosswalk, Ryan shifting impatiently as Natasha milked her role as a drunk sorority sister, mouth running off nonsense.    

_One more thing_ , Nat whispered in her mind.   _Do not use your powers.  Under any circumstances.  Only to save your life, if absolutely necessary._

She nodded again, and Natasha shook her head.   _Not even to save someone else's.  Only yours._

Ryan blinked in surprise.  Then, she fake-laughed, leaning in close to Nat's ear as they crossed the street, ducking down an empty road.  "Why?" she breathed, then giggled into her neck.

_Anything you do, they'll use against you._

"Who - "

"Hands in the air!"  

Instantly, Natasha shoved her down and leapt away.  Ryan tumbled to the ground, skinning the heels of her hands.  Above her, Natasha was fighting three goons at once, and a spray of bullets in the air had Ryan jumping to her feet.

"No!" Nat yelled, smashing a guy's head against her knee.  "Run!"

"Let me - !"

" _Run!_ "

With a last look, Ryan took off again, feet screaming and lungs burning.  The grunts and thuds disappeared behind her as she flew up the street, a blessedly empty sidewalk ahead of her.  Wait, no, _shit_ , she was supposed to find crowds and walk, where did all the people go?!

She kept running, feet slapping against concrete.  It was fine.  She'd be fine.  Nat would catch up with her via whatever tracking magic she had, and then -

A hand yanked her against a hard body, the other muffling her scream.  She grabbed at his wrist, tried to bite down, but cold metal pressed to her temple made her freeze.

"One more move, and I paint your fucking brains on the sidewalk, swear to God," a man growled in her ear.  "You're one of those freaks, huh?  My gun'll kill you just fine.  Now hold fucking still - "

"Evening, officer," a new voice called out, and Ryan's eyes shot up.  A frankly humongous man stood in front of them, ebony hands held up as cool as can be.  "How's it going tonight?"

"This is a matter of national security," her captor shouted, tone ugly.  "Doesn't concern you.  Move along."

The man's eyebrows rose.  "Seems to me you're holding that young woman without reading her rights," he said, taking a step forward.  

"Don't come any closer!"  

"I'm just a concerned citizen - "

_BANG!_

Ryan screamed, the gun leaving her temple and firing in half a second.  One hand flew from her captor's wrist, but it was too late, the man was too close - 

He didn't even flinch.  

Ryan stared in shock.  A hole had appeared in his sweatshirt, right where his heart should be, and the man hadn't moved.  Didn't react at all.

"What the fuck?" her captor shouted.  The man just sighed.  

"Alright, if we're doing it like this."  He walked forward, and the gun fired again.  And again.  And again, the bullets just bouncing off the man's skin as Ryan watched in a kind of trance.  The man finally reached them, his hand curling around the barrel of the gun as it fired straight into his palm.  

"Ouch," he said in a deadpan.  Then he wrenched the gun away and crushed it with one hand.

Her captor whimpered a little.  The man gave him an unimpressed look, then twisted the arm holding Ryan away and punched him in the face.  He dropped like a stone.

"Th-thanks," Ryan breathed, blinking up at her savior.  Good god, he was on par with Thor for height and build.  Superpowers, too, apparently.  She attracted them like moths lately, a dry part of her noted.    

"No problem at all, miss," the man said, giving her a rather charming smile.  He glanced down at the man he'd just knocked out, shrugged, then jerked his head back up the road.  "I know a safe place, if you need help."

"There'll be more," Ryan replied, looking back where she'd been running.  The streets were still empty, but her heart was pounding, and she swayed on her feet, ears ringing.  Fuck, she was exhausted.  "They're coming, they'll...can't let them..."

"Then we'd best get indoors."  Suddenly, he scooped her up in his arms, and she yelped in surprise.  "The name's Luke Cage, by the way."

"Ryan Green," she managed, before the world faded to black. 

 

 


	2. In Which Pop Teaches Black Literature and Jess Really Needs a Therapist, TBH

“Oh, god!”  Jess spluttered, clanking the tumbler back down.  “Thought you said this was scotch.”

Pop chuckled, then poured her another finger anyway.  “Thought you said you read.”

“Not whoever the fuck Donald Goines is.” 

Pop silently pointed, then grinned as she rolled her eyes and stuffed another dollar into the coffee can.  “Goines invented Kenyatta, the best black hero this side of Shaft.  Took the fight to the man in the streets by his self.”

Jess snorted.  “Street fighting’s overrated.”

“Huh.  I heard Luke saw two Dogs of Hell goons get the beat down last week, down in Hell’s Kitchen.” Pop smirked, leaning back with his own tumbler.  “It weren’t that masked devil boy that time, neither.” 

“That was business.”  But she smirked back at him, taking another sip of scotch.  “And I heard it was three.”    

Pop threw back his head and laughed.  “I see why Luke likes you.  Even if you ain’t never read any Black literature.”

“I read a Hughes poem.  Once.  In high school.”

Pop chuckled again.  “Walter Mosley?  George Pelecanos?  They’s street poets.”  He clicked his tongue.  “Boom.”

“Alright, Jesus,” Jess muttered, rolling her eyes again.  “Luke’s got a shit ton of those books, I’ll – goddammit, fuck this!” and she crumpled up three more bills before stuffing them in the jar.

Pop laughed again, raising his tumbler in salute.  “Folks made _musicals_ outta Alice Walker, y’all can start easy with her.”

Suddenly, her face darkened, like shutters slamming over a window.  She threw back the rest of her drink in one, then grabbed the bottle again.  “Sorry, Pops.  I don’t do purple.”

Pop frowned, but paused as footsteps tapped down the stairs to the shopfront.  “He back already?” he muttered, twisting around to see.  “Luke?  That you, man?”

“Thank god,” Jess grumbled, glaring at her drink.  “You’d better have whiskey, Cage – oh, shit – !“

The door burst open, bell clanging wildly as Luke shoved his way inside, a deathly pale girl lying in his arms instead of the promised bottle of Windsor.  ”Pop, she needs water – “

Jess appeared at his side as he tipped the girl into one of the barber’s chairs, head lolling and eyes closed.  Luke saw her eyes narrow at the ripped dress, missing shoes, and the sweat trailing through concrete-colored dust, a thick coat over her hair and body.  Jess leaned in and sniffed, then grabbed the girl’s arm, frowning at what looked like a painted tattoo of white roses, matching the vine peeking out from the cutouts on her ribs.  “What the fuck happened?”

Luke shook his head.  “I barely know.  Took the shortcut between East and 10th, came out to see some SWAT special agent or something chokeholding her, saying he’d shoot her brains out.”

Jess gave him a disbelieving look, and he shrugged.  “No clue.  The guy took some shots at me, so I punched him out.  Caught her right before she passed out.  I think she tried to say her name, but I didn’t catch it.”

Pop made a tutting sound, hurrying over with a glass of water.  “How’s a tiny slip of white girl like her get into trouble like that?” 

Jess shrugged.  “Let’s find out.”  With that, she grabbed the water and dumped it unceremoniously over the girl’s head. 

She awoke with a gasp, thrashing and sputtering, and Luke quickly grabbed her shoulders, holding her still.  “Hey, don’t move yet, it’s – “

The girl’s eyes locked on his, an intensely bright blue, and suddenly his arms flew back on their own, almost smacking Jess in the face.  “What the Sam Hill – “

“Who – “ the girl gasped, trying to push herself up, “wha – “

“Hey there, miss,” Pop inserted, pushing himself in front and holding out another glass of water.  “It’s all good, now, you’ll be just fine.  You were having a bit of trouble, and my neighbor Luke here was lendin’ a hand, that’s all.”

She blinked, then grabbed at the water and drank like she needed to quench a desert.  When it was gone, she flopped back in the chair, still panting for breath.  “Sorry.”

“Nothin’ needs apologizing for,” Pop said kindly.  “My shop here’s a safe place for everyone.”

“No, I meant – I didn’t mean to shove you just now,” she said, looking back to Luke.  “Or get you – um, shot.  How, um, how are you – “

“It’s a long story,” Luke replied, eyeing her a little warily.  “How did you just push me back like that?”

She gave him a weak smile.  “It’s a long story.”

“Talk, then,” Jess suddenly growled.  The girl shrank back from her glare, and Jess rolled her eyes.  “Start with who’s after you.”

The girl startled a little, head whipping to the windows emblazoned with _Pop’s Barbershop_ lining the front.  She took in her surroundings in earnest then, eyes scanning from the half-finished chess game by the door, the TV hanging on the wall, and around to the vending machine humming past the barber chairs.   They settled on Pop, and her face fell.  “What the – I’m in _Harlem_?”

Pop raised an eyebrow, and she quickly added, “I thought we were going the other way – I need to get to Manha – no, dammit, I can’t, they know I live – “

“Hey!” Jess yelled, and the girl jumped again.  “My boyfriend just saved your brain from getting painted on the sidewalk, you mind using it to tell us who the fuck tried to kill you both?”

“Jess,” Luke murmured, but she slapped his hand away.

“No, see, you’re a black guy in a hoodie that not only just assaulted a _federal agent_ , but stole his perp using your goddamn superpowers!”  Jess stood a whole head beneath him, but seemed to tower over him now, angered scent muted with a hazy stain of alcohol.  “So now I need to figure out how deep this shit goes, and if she doesn’t start talking, I’m going to beat it out of her,” she finished, the low growl aimed at the girl.

To their surprise, the girl tried to smile at them.  “I won’t let any of you get hurt.  I promise,” she said, making to stand up.  The next moment, though, she collapsed back down with a small _mmph_.  “Once I can move again.  And I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t catch your name?  Are you Pop?”

Pop chuckled, coming over to shake her hand.  The girl had a light, floral scent, marred though it was by the lingering sweat and debris and fear.  But anyone who remembered their manners when they were half-dead at his doorstep was alright in his book.  “Yes, ma’am.  The gentleman who brought you in is mister Luke Cage, and the scowling drunk goes by Jessica Jones.  Don’t you mind her, though.  Luke ain’t let her punch a lady.”

Jess threw her hands in the air, looking ready to launch into a tirade, but the girl only chuckled back.  “I’m Ryan Green.  And to answer your threat, Jess,” she added, resigned, exhausted-looking eyes settling hazily on hers, “I don’t know who’s after me.  But the why’s pretty obvious.”

The TV suddenly switched on, and everyone but Ryan jumped.  She frowned at the ESPN sports anchors debating basketball stats, and the TV started flipping through channels on its own.

“What the _fu_ – “

“Sweet Christmas,” Luke interrupted over Jess, sounding in awe.  He turned back to Ryan.  “You are the one doing that, right?”

“Long story short.”  Ryan’s frown deepened.  She nodded back to the TV, where she’d settled on a local news station.

“… still live from ground zero at the remains of the Edwin Hotel, where federal agents have taken over the scene.  Again, the Avengers have been escorted away from the scene, and it appears the search continues for the suspect Ryan Green, who fled on foot after Captain America and his mate managed to free her from the debris.  Authorities have sent out an APB – “

“ _What?_ ” Ryan exclaimed, looking outraged.  “Call Bucky by his name, you jerk!  And that’s not even what happened!”

Pop shook his head.  “Surprise, surprise.  Media screwing people over.”  He turned back to Ryan, a kind but appraising look on his face.  “People with abilities ain’t strangers ‘round here nowadays, and you seems like good people, Miss Ryan.  I’d like t’ hear your side of things, if that be alright.”

“Of course.  But, please, just call me Ryan.”

 Jess groaned in frustration, patience for niceties apparently all used up, and she stalked over to the bottle of scotch and took a deep swig.  Slamming the bottle back down, she glared at Ryan before managing a surprisingly steady fake curtsy.  “Whenever you’re ready, princess.”

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

On first impression, Ryan didn’t really like Jessica.  Using her powers in front of her seemed idiotic, if not for the fact that the whole world would know about them by morning.  But to be entirely honest, she was so bone-deep exhausted that all her slightly-loopy brain could think of was how impressive it was there was a more sarcastic functioning alcoholic in New York City than Tony.  God help them all if they ever met.

“I was at the Stark Industries gala in Uptown tonight.  Someone planted – well, multiple bombs, I guess,” she started, nodding back at the ongoing news footage.  “I… held back the blast, while the Avengers got everyone out.  Then, these government agents came, and Tony told me to run.  So I did.”

For all that Jessica had been yelling at Ryan to start talking, she was glued to her phone as she spoke.  When she’d finished, Jess looked up, eyes narrow, and suddenly darted forward and ripped open the high neckline of Ryan’s dress. 

“Hey!” Ryan exclaimed, struggling back weakly, but Jess only pulled one side halfway down before jumping back like she’d been burned. 

“Fuck, did you mate with them _yesterday?_ ” she exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief.  “Goddamn, they’re gonna be pissed at you for touching her, Luke.”

Luke’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “Who?”

“The flag-waving grandpa and the metal arm freak,” Jess answered, snickering under her breath.  “That’s some mess of psychosexual issues you got there, Green.”

“ _What?!_ ” 

“Alright, that’s enough.”  Pop stood himself between them, glaring sternly at Jess.  “Jess, our friend Ryan needs some fresh clothes, go get her some of yours.  Luke, rustle up a toothbrush and make the spare bed.  Y’all can work out what needs doin' about the police after Ryan gets some rest.”

With a last sour frown, Jess stalked off into the back.  Luke gave Ryan an apologetic look, then followed.

“Sweet Lord above,” Pop muttered, dropping down into the barber chair beside Ryan’s.  “I ain’t never been a father, and I’m damn glad of it.  Imagine her as a teenager.”  He fake-shuddered.  “I’m getting too old for this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ryan said quickly, trying and managing to sit up this time.  Nothing hurt, really, but the room was spinning a little at the edge of her vision, and it took a minute to string her next sentence together.  “I’m putting you in danger, I should leave.”

Pop shook his head before she finished talking.  “The danger ain’t nothing.  Everybody ‘round here respect Pop’s place, and I seen worse before.  You’re safe here, I promise.”

_CRASH!_

The door slammed open, glass shattering as five men in black poured in and surrounded them both.  A tall man with a hooked nose pointed his gun at Ryan’s forehead.  “Hands in the air!  Get down on your knees!”

“Okay!”  Ryan threw her hands in the air, eyes flicking over to Pop.  “Just leave him alone, he didn’t do anything – “

“Hey!” Jess yelled, and three of the guns were suddenly pointed toward the back as she stormed in.  “Jackholes!  That man’s an innocent bystander, so you can take your little peashooters and stuff them where – !”

“Shut it, bitch, or all three of you get some!” Hook-Nose yelled, brandishing a handgun at her torso.  “Search the place,” he barked, and two men shoved forward while a third forced Jess to her knees.  Hook-Nose yanked Ryan to the floor, twisting her arms and kneeing her back as she grunted in pain.  Cold metal snapped around her wrists as heavy footsteps stomped back in, Luke’s hands behind his head as the men pointed guns at his back.

“Sir?” Hook-Nose said, and Ryan twisted her neck to see him hold a hand to an earpiece.  “Package acquired.  Three extras on the scene.”  He paused a moment, listening, then nodded at the others.  “Roger.  Out.” 

He dropped his hand, then raised his gun at Pop.

“Sorry, old man.  No witnesses.”

Almost in slow motion, Ryan saw him start to pull the trigger.  The other men were raising their guns to Jess and Luke’s heads as it inched back.  Luke was shouting something as he tried to rise up, Jess’ jaw was dropping open in horror, and Ryan watched as Pop slowly, slowly closed his eyes.

 

“ ** _STOP!_** ” 

 

Everything zoomed to full speed only to jerk to a halt.  Ryan’s voice rung with power, echoing in her own ears as everyone went still as death around her.  She panted for breath, heart thudding in her ears so fast she worried it might give out. 

It was like reading someone’s mind and finding nothing there.  The door was open to a blank, empty room, ready for her to do with as she pleased.  It was sickening, yes, but somehow also calming as everything went silent, ready.  She could do it.  She could fix this.

“Do not pull the trigger.  Take your hands off, and put the guns down.  And get off me, too.”

All five men moved simultaneously, like perfectly timed puppets.  She struggled to her feet, stars winking in her vision as she leaned on her barber’s chair as a lifeline.  “Okay.  Pay attention.”

She jumped as everyone’s heads turned to her at once.  “Oh god, that was really fucking creepy – right.  Police, agents, whoever you are – you made a mistake.  You don’t know any of them,” she added, pointing at Pop, Jess, and Luke in turn.  “You found the wrong person, and you will explain that to your superiors and whoever else asks you.  You can continue your search, but you will not harm anyone else.  You don’t remember me, Pop’s Barbershop, or anything about coming in here.  Understand?”

The five men nodded blankly.  She blew out a breath, wracking her brains for anything else.  “Alright.  Pick up your guns and get out of here.  When you reach the street, you’ll go on your merry way and never come back.  Go.”

Immediately, they obeyed.  Glass crunched under their boots as they went single-file out the door, Hook-Nose leading the way.  As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, she heard them take off running, one of them yelling something about cutting east towards the river.

Ryan collapsed back in the chair.  She’d had no clue if that would actually work, or if her commands would even last.  But for now at least, they were –

“Shit!”  She flung herself back up and released Pop, Luke and Jess all at once.  Pop and Jess gasped for breath as Luke stumbled forward, having been stopped halfway up with his arms reaching towards Pop.

“I’m so sorry,” Ryan panted, “I – I wish I didn’t have to do that, I know it’s horr – _aah!_ ”

“Jess, no!”  Luke yanked her back as she snarled and yelled, clawing at his forearms.  He pinned her arms to the side, lifting her kicking legs off the ground as she writhed in his grasp.  “Stop!”

With a feral yell, she forced his arms apart and dropped to the floor, darting forward like a snake.  She grabbed a barber’s chair by the seat and ripped it from its base, screaming incoherently.  She lifted it over her head and launched it towards Ryan, because with how her night was going, why wouldn’t Jess have super strength and want to kill her too?

“Hey!”  Ryan flung out a hand, and both the chair and Jess froze in place.  “I’m sorry!  I didn’t want to have to – “

– _smile, dearie_ –

– licked a cold, wet stripe up her neck _oh god please make it stop_ – _Just kill me!  Kill me, make it stop_ –

Hideous purple eyes flashed as a high, cruel laugh screamed from Jess’s mind, and Ryan almost retched.

“I’m not him!” she gasped, the hand held out shaking in midair.  “I’m not Kilgrave, I swear!”

Luke’s eyes went wide, wider than they’d been staring at the chair floating above their heads.  Slowly, he reached for Jess, laying his hands on her shoulders, glowing a dim blue.  He met Ryan’s eyes.  “How do you know about him?”

“I – “  Ryan cut off, slowly lowering her hand.  The chair floated back down, lying sideways where it once stood, but she didn’t let go of Jess yet.  She’d had more than enough close shaves with death tonight.  She gulped, taking a deep breath to try and block out the horrifying memories flashing through Jess’s brain.  “He – the same reason she does.”

Luke’s eyes flickered to Jess, then back to hers.  “You can… read her mind?”

“I triggered a flashback,” she said in answer.  “I can’t get her out of it without… you know.”

“Right.”  Luke slowly nodded, seeming to come to a decision, then tightened his grip on Jess.  “It was a few years back, for her.  She got away, she won’t tell me how.  Just said he was dead.  But about a year ago, she started getting signs and thought he was somehow alive, coming back for her.  Then, they just – stopped.  Things… have been worse, since.”

Ryan blew out a breath.  “A year ago?  Like, exactly?”

Luke nodded, and she closed her eyes.  “He was back.  But… he came after me again.  Well, he didn’t know it was me – when I was a teenager, he – “

“You don’t have to explain,” Luke said quickly.  “Just – do you know where he is now?”

Ryan opened her eyes again, meeting Jess’s frozen stare.  “Six feet under, somewhere in Pennsylvania.  He’s dead, for real.  He’s not coming back.”

Luke frowned a little.  “Are you absolutely sure?”

Ryan gulped again, then nodded.  In a hoarse, empty whisper, she confessed, “I killed him.  My mates watched him burn.” 

With that, she let Jess go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD. I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER AND A HALF.
> 
> March was insane. I got my wisdom teeth out, had papers and presentations and exams and research and teaching, and discovered my roommate and his girlfriend might be sociopaths? They're poor enough at communication to qualify, in my humble opinion. 
> 
> Next up: a little more with Jessica and Ryan, then back to the Avengers! But don't worry, I swear 1) it won't take 3 weeks to publish the next chapter; and 2) our favorite trio won't be apart too much longer. Ryan misses her boys :(


	3. In Which Clint Briefly Contemplates Murder and Ryan Cross-Dresses

 

 

A spicy scent Ryan didn’t recognize tickled her nose, rousing her from the deepest layer of sleep.  It was followed by the quick realization that she wasn’t alone, someone was there and watching, and it startled her fully awake.  

 

A sullen scoff, and Ryan recognized its maker.  “For being the most powerful person in the fucking universe, you’re a fucking wimp.”

 

She blinked, fog in her eyes clearing.  She was lying on a fold-out cot in a dim room, still in her ruined dress, a scratchy blanket covering where it had ridden up her legs.  She could feel her hair sticking out everywhere as she sat up, and she itched absent-mindedly where the paint was peeling off her forearms. 

 

“I’m not,” she said, and Jess scoffed again.

 

“You stopped a gang of thugs with a word, and you’re scared of _me_ ,” she said flatly.  “Fucking wimp.”

 

Ryan sighed through her nose.  Sometimes, she wished it could be that simple.  “I meant I’m not that… powerful,” she said, dropping her eyes to her lap.  She picked at the remains of the white roses, peeling off bits of rubbery paint.  “I’m currently on the run for my life.  Obviously, other people are calling the shots.”

 

Jess didn’t respond, and Ryan looked back up.  It was the first time she’d seen Jess without a dour frown or angry scowl.  It was an appraising, considering kind of look, like Ryan was a puzzle piece she couldn’t fit into place. 

 

Then, Jess glanced down, raising an eyebrow.  “How’d you get those?”

 

Ryan followed her eyes, then paused.  Oh.  She’d forgotten why Steve had painted her arms to begin with.  She was used to the scars by now.

 

Well.  Jess deserved some closure, too.  If she could help, she had to, didn’t she?

 

She took a deep breath, then told Jess everything.  How she was born the way she was, how her parents had died and she’d been left with nothing.  How she’d been homeless, aimless and wandering, and how Kilgrave had found her. 

 

How empty, hollow, alone she’d been after.

 

How the Avengers had taken her in, given her a home.  How everything went wrong, and how Kilgrave had tried to steal everything she had, again.  How they’d risked their lives for her, and she almost died for them.

 

“He made Bucky attack Steve,” she said, forcing her voice steady.  It was starting to get truly light now, she’d been talking for so long.  “Bucky’s knife accidentally flew at me.  That’s how I got this,” she added, turning to show Jess the white, razor-thin line up her left cheek.  “I grabbed it, and… cut out the implants.”

 

Jess blanched white.  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

 

Ryan shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut.  Phantom pain ghosted down her arms, making her ribs ache in sympathy, and she hugged her arms tight to her chest.  “I got them out.  And…”

 

Jess held up a hand, and Ryan paused.  Jess had closed her eyes, tipping her head back a little.  The frown lines in her forehead were smooth, her face serene.  “How’d you do it?”

 

Ryan gulped, heart starting to pound in her ears.  “With…my powers.”

 

“How?”

 

Her stomach twisted.  The room had grown steadily too hot, but her hands were clammy, almost slipping when she clutched her arms tighter, and Jess’s face was almost beatific.  “I controlled him,” Ryan whispered, “I made him – made him look at me, and…”

 

“ _How?”_

 

“I snapped his neck!” Ryan half-shouted, voice cracking.  “I fucking waved my hand and he was dead, and I killed him!”

 

Silence rang through the room, punctured only by Ryan’s shuddering breaths.  For a long moment, Jess just sat there, a small smile spreading across her face. 

 

Then she blew out a breath, a dark chuckle on the end of it.  “Yeah.  That’s how I’d have done it, too.”  She looked at Ryan again, and there was a flicker of light, a tiny brightness behind her eyes that looked too much like hope for Ryan to believe it was real.  “Thank you.”

 

Ryan stared, a feeling like static buzzing in her ears.  “You’ve never killed anyone, have you.”

 

“I wish I had,” Jess said easily.  “I’d sleep better.”

 

Ryan quickly shook her head.  “You wouldn’t.”

 

Incredibly, Jess only shrugged.  “Whatever.”  She stood up, then threw a bundle of clothes and a bath towel in Ryan’s lap before heading to the door.  “Take a shower, you’re disgusting.  Don’t leave until I get back.”

 

“Jess,” Ryan called, and she paused.  “How did you get your powers?”

 

Jess groaned, rolling her eyes as she turned back around.  “Car crash, chemical spill, dead family, juiced-up me.  Luke got a bum rap, illegal inmate experimentation.  I’m a PI and an alcoholic, he owns a bar and has a great dick.  Match made in heaven.  Happy?” 

 

With that, she slammed the door shut, and Ryan decided she and Jess probably wouldn’t ever be friends.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

The only reason Clint hadn’t snapped and done something truly idiotic – he’d considered fashioning a bowstring from his shoelaces and loosing some frustration on the guards at the door – was because Steve and Bucky hadn’t. 

 

Hours had gone by, just the three of them and Sam in some glass-walled fishbowl room in the UN building, sitting around an empty table in stiff-backed chairs. Sam kept stretching out, sighing, dropping his head to the table.  They hadn’t moved a muscle.  

 

It made no sense.  Bucky was a sniper, like him, but there was a big difference between waiting for a target under orders and sitting idle while your mate was in danger.  Steve, on the other hand, should have literally jumped out a window by now. 

 

All the “calm down, we have to trust Tony and Nat, Ryan can literally stop bullets by blinking at them” speeches he’d mentally composed, all for nothing.  It was kind of a shame. 

 

He kept rehashing them anyways, for his own benefit.  Natasha was one thing.  Best goddamn spy on the planet.  She could take on the entire U.S. government and win.  She’d promised him she’d be back.  And wherever Darcy had been escorted to wait, she’d be fine.  Annoying the fuck out of her guards, but fine. 

 

But Ryan?  She… well.  If he was honest with himself, she wasn’t meant for the hand she’d been dealt.  She deserved normal.  She deserved white-picket fences, a garden full of cherry tomatoes and a Labradoodle puppy named Rocket.  What she got was a level ten tragic backstory and an uncertain future, both about to be picked apart under a microscope by the entire world, come morning.

 

So why the _fuck_ were Steve and Bucky so calm? 

 

They weren’t even talking to each other in whatever Irish dialect they spoke.  They could, too - even the agents listening in on the room wouldn’t be able to get audio translated for hours, at least.  Who the hell speaks Gaelic?  Clint had looked up the basics one time, and he couldn’t pronounce a single word; half the letters were silent and the other half just sounded however they felt like sounding that day.  It’d be _impossible_ to transcribe by ear and feed into Google Translate.

 

Steve hadn’t bounded headfirst into a rampage of American-flavored righteousness.  Bucky hadn’t switched on his terrifying Terminator mode.  And if General Ass didn’t get back here and explain why he’d ordered guns after his little sister - _and_ free Bruce from whatever cage they must’ve thrown him in - Clint was going to snap.

 

Sam lifted his head again, blinking blearily.  The adrenaline crash after a brush with death was brutal.  Clint was used to it, though, and the thought made him frown.  He wasn’t anywhere close to old yet, but if he wanted to be someday, a career change might be necessary.

 

Sam caught his eye, and flicked his gaze over to Steve and Bucky and back, furrowing his brows.  Clint shook his head ever so slightly, and Sam frowned, too. 

 

Suddenly, footsteps tapped outside, and all four of them sprang to their feet as the door finally opened.  General Ross entered first, looking far too put-together for four AM of an all-nighter.  Behind him was Tony, looking like he’d been through a blender and limping slightly to the right.  One arm reached back, white-knuckled hand gripping a white-faced, nauseated-looking Bruce.

 

“Bruce,” Clint breathed, but Sam had dashed to his side before he could even move.

 

“Hey,” Sam whispered, grabbing Bruce’s other arm to help Tony maneuver him to a chair, “you good?”

 

Bruce nodded, eyes a little unfocused.  “No incidents."

 

“Gentlemen,” Ross said, and Clint narrowed his eyes at him.  “Apologies for the delay – “

 

“Where’s Darcy?” Clint interrupted, just as Steve inserted, “Where’s Ryan?” 

 

Ross looked at Clint like he was a piece of gum stuck to his shoe before turning to Steve, face turning friendly.  “My apologies, but her location is privileged, Captain.”

 

Clint relaxed ever-so-slightly, shoulders dropping down.  They didn’t have her.  _Yet._   

 

Ross turned back to Clint, sour look returning.  “Miss Lewis is still in questioning,” he said, and Clint’s heart stopped.

 

“Ques – where?” Steve demanded, voice a little scratchy from disuse.  “Sir, she has the right to legal counsel – “

 

“If she was under arrest,” Ross inserted, holding up a hand to silence him.  “As of right now, she’s not.”  With an irritated tick of his jaw, he added, “With her current level of cooperation, however, obstruction of justice charges will be an option soon.”

 

Clint felt a swell of pride in his chest, and he smirked at Ross.  “She learned interrogation resistance from ‘Tasha.  Good luck.”

 

To his surprise, Ross smirked back at him.  “Speaking of,” he said, and took a remote from his breast pocket.  The TV on the far wall clicked on to a small square cell, Natasha’s distinct red hair the only color in the room. 

 

“She _is_ under arrest,” Ross said, like the smug asshole he was.  “Aggravated assault on federal agents, while aiding and abetting domestic terrorism.”

 

A beat of silence, and the meaning sunk in.  If Nat was here, then Ryan was – and if Nat was supposedly aiding a terrorist, then they thought Ryan was –

 

 _Shit_.  It was worse than he’d thought.

 

“General.”  Steve’s voice had gone quiet, the kind of quiet only a fool would mistake for anything except very, very dangerous.  “With all due respect, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Oddly, Ross’s look turned sympathetic, giving Steve a small, almost paternal smile.  “I understand this is difficult for you, son – “

 

“Ryan didn’t do this!”

 

“ – but we have irrefutable evidence showing us who was behind the Edwin bombings,” Ross finished.  He clicked the remote, and the screen showed a CCTV tape of an upscale hotel hallway, green plants and golden wallpaper over a fancy red carpet.  The timestamp in the corner read two days ago at one AM.

 

“Security from the Edwin was stored on something called the Cloud, and therefore recoverable,” Ross said, just as a person in a black hood and backpack appeared from the bottom of the view.  “It truly is the age of miracles.”

 

The figure quickly knelt, unzipping the backpack and pulling out a large, metallic black box.  The next second, Clint’s stomach dropped as their hands twisted and glowed bright blue, and the box flew up to the ceiling, a tile shifting aside on its own to let it in. 

 

It was over almost as soon as it began.  The figure pulled the backpack on again, then glanced furtively up and down the hallway as they hurried back as they came.

 

Ross suddenly paused the video.  At the last second, at the very bottom of the screen, the figure had looked up, and –

 

“Someone doctored this,” Steve declared, rising to his feet again, “it’s not her – “

 

“The footage has already been confirmed as untampered,” Ross inserted, still in that calm, almost patronizing tone.  “I don’t understand all the computer techno-babble myself, but there’s no better expert than Tony Stark, is there?”

 

All heads turned to Tony, who was staring intently at the tabletop.  Clint’s stomach, already twisting with worry, sunk further.  Tony, the motormouth deluxe, hadn’t said a word the whole time.

 

“Tony,” Steve began, but Tony finally looked up. 

 

“JARVIS confirmed.  Tape’s clean.  It’s Ryan.”

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

Ryan slipped into the clothes Jess had left, feeling about a thousand times more alive and human after a hot shower.  Pop’s kitchen greeted her with the smell of pancakes and coffee, and her stomach growled so loud it almost startled her.

 

“Good morning, Miss Ryan,” Pop called, flipping a pancake onto a ten-high stack.  “Help yourself, you must be near starving.”

 

She thanked him with a smile, and Luke chuckled as he came in a minute later.  “I get hungry after, too,” he said, settling down with a mug of coffee.  Ryan blushed red, but wolfed down her fourth pancake anyway.  “Your abilities must burn tons of calories.”

 

“Not normally, I don’t think,” Ryan said, swallowing the last bite.  “But holding up a whole hotel ballroom was the biggest thing I’ve ever done, by far.”  She sighed, then added, “Have you heard what the news is saying?”

 

“None of that, now,” Pop inserted as Luke opened his mouth.  Pop set down his coffee to take one of her hands in his.  “Take it from an old man who been seeing this shit for years.  Don’ listen to what nobody is saying about you.  You know the truth, an’ that’s that.”

 

Ryan tried to smile at him, and Pop squeezed her hand before letting go.  “That being said,” he added, and his face turned dark.  “Don’ trust anyone, ‘less you sure they worth it.  Even if they believe you, not many be willing to help folk in trouble nowadays.”

 

Ryan nodded solemnly.  “Thank you.  For being willing to help me.  And, here,” she said, and slid off her engagement ring and wedding band.  She put the ring on the table, sliding the band back on.  “It should get enough to fix your shop.”

 

“Oh no, Miss Ryan, I couldn’t,” Pop began, but she cut him off.

 

“It’s my fault those goons broke in and the chair got ruined.  And they tried to hurt you, too.”  Ryan smiled a little then.  “They’re just sparkly rocks.  Steve and Bucky will be fine with it.”

 

Pop hesitated, and Luke reached forward and carefully plucked the ring off the table for him.  He held it up, considering, then shook his head.  “If you’re serious,” he said, “then the band would be more than enough.  I’ll do the work for free.”

 

Ryan twisted the band on her finger, the surface shiny and smooth no matter how she fiddled with it.  “Actually, it’s worth a few million times what the ring is.”  She chuckled at the looks on their faces.  “It’s vibranium, from a plate in Bucky’s prosthetic.”

 

Luke’s eyebrows shot up, and she giggled.  “You telling me you wear a small fortune’s worth of the Winter Soldier’s arm ‘round your finger at all times?”  He clicked his tongue, smiling and shaking his head.  “That’s badass, girl.”

 

Her laugh was cut off by a door slamming shut, Jess hurrying into the kitchen.  She tossed a gym bag and a manila folder at Ryan, grabbing Luke’s mug of coffee and guzzling it down. 

 

“Passport, driver’s license, birth certificate, cash, burner phone,” she listed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.  “Legit IDs, too.  Belonged to some guy who died last week.  Oh, relax,” she snapped, as Ryan’s eyes bugged out.  “Natural causes, he was clean.  His brother’s the criminal, he sold me the stuff.”

 

“Jess.  She’s a girl,” Luke pointed out, and Jess glared at him.

 

“I got a guy to replace the pictures.  It’ll take ten minutes once her hair’s done.”

 

Ryan paused, folder halfway open.  “My hair?”

 

Jess grinned, wide and mischievous.  “You’ve already got a dude name.  Your binder and clothes are in the bag.  Chop-chop, Pop.”

 

Half an hour later, Jess snapped a picture with her phone and left Ryan to run her hands through what little was left of her hair.  With a masculine-leaning pixie cut, the binder and a loose T-shirt, she didn’t quite pass as a guy – her jaw and cheekbones were too soft – but definitely looked androgynous.  At least Jess didn’t make her dye her hair, too.  

 

“I like it,” Luke said with a shrug.  “You make a cute dude.”

 

“Thanks,” Ryan sighed, voice low as she could make it.  It scratched her throat, and she coughed into her shoulder before growling in frustration.  Her binder was so tight it was almost hard to breathe, and she was already sweaty and gross underneath it.  She felt awful for trans guys - they had enough shit to deal with, couldn't someone at least invent a comfortable binder?  "I've never tried to be a guy, I don't know what to do."

 

“Spread your legs on the subway, and don’t never say ‘excuse me’,” Pop said with a laugh.  “Boys these days ain’t got no manners.”

 

“Best if you don’t talk in general,” Luke added, chuckling to himself.  His voice was octaves lower than hers, one bicep the size of her head.  Dammit, it wasn't fair; she was five foot seven and _still_ a shrimp compared to the guys she knew.  “So.  Where are you gonna go?”

 

“No!” Jess called out before Ryan could answer, coming in from the back.  “Jesus.  Plausible deniability, guys.  Soon as she’s gone, no more contact.”

 

“I kinda have to know where I’m going to tell you, anyway,” Ryan said with another sigh. 

 

Luke furrowed his brows.  “You’ve got superpowers, and you’re mated to Captain America and the Winter Soldier.  You didn’t have a plan in case something like this happened?”

 

Ryan frowned, too.  “Honestly?  Outside of ops other people set up, they generally just improv everything.”

 

“Wait, wait,” Pop inserted, holding up a hand.  He stared Ryan down, eyes narrowing in suspicion.  “You mean to say, when honest-to-God aliens be invading my home city, not even _Captain America_ had a real plan?”

 

“Sorry,” Ryan shrugged, chuckling a little.  “To be fair, he was only 24 at the time.  None of us are even 30 yet.”

 

No one seemed to have a response to that.  Ryan cleared her throat, running her hand across the soft buzz of hair on the back of her neck.  “Well.  I should probably leave.”

 

To her surprise, Pop pulled her into a hug.  “The only direction that matters in life is forward, Miss Ryan,” he murmured, holding her hand in both of his.  “Always forward. Never backward. Don’t let no one knock you down.”

 

“I’ll try,” she murmured back, then turned to Luke and Jess.  “I’m sorry I put you all in danger.  But, if you want,” she added, swallowing heavy after.  “I can make you guys forget me.  If anyone found out, you wouldn’t be held responsible for any of this.”

 

Luke paused, then looked to Jess.  She narrowed her eyes at Ryan, considering.  Then, she shook her head.  “No one messes with my mind anymore.  And I’m not scared of a bunch of suits.” 

 

Luke smiled, then pressed a kiss to Jess’ forehead.  Incredibly, she closed her eyes, the tiniest smile on her lips, and for a second, they finally made sense together. 

 

Then, a horn honked outside, Jess pushed him away, and the spell was broken.  “That’s you,” Jess informed her, and Ryan grabbed the gym bag, putting on the baseball cap to top off her disguise.  “Cabbie’s already paid.  Go to JFK, get on a plane.”

 

Ryan’s stomach twisted, hands gripping her bag.  The last time she’d been on a plane, it was because she’d been knocked out and kidnapped, only to be locked in a cell and then re-kidnapped.  Maybe she’d get lucky and only be kidnapped once this time.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured, and Jess just shrugged, folding her arms and looking away.

 

“You killed our rapist.  Least I could do.”

 

Half an hour later, she studied the departures screen, wondering where on earth she was supposed to go.  She had a passport, but buying last minute airline tickets in cash was weird enough; going overseas was out.  Boston was the first place they’d expect her to go.  D.C. was where the government was, that would be idiotic.  But she hadn’t been anywhere else, she didn’t know anyone who could help, where…? 

 

Wait. 

 

A memory niggled in the back of her head.  She did know _one_ other person outside of New York and Boston, someone who already knew who and what she was.  He’d helped when she was desperate before, right?

 

She needed a city far from New York, she spoke fluent Spanish, and there was a flight leaving in forty-five minutes.  Good enough.

 

An hour later, sandwiched between a bored-looking businessman in headphones and a heavyset lady jabbering on and on _and on_ about her son’s one-man musical extravaganza, Ryan closed her eyes, pleading with the universe that Steve and Bucky were okay, and not doing anything stupid to try to find her.

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

Steve slammed his hand on the table, and Clint jumped as a chunk splintered off and clattered to the floor.  Steve didn’t seem to notice, too busy baring his teeth at the U.S. Secretary of State.  “Ryan didn’t do this!  She’s been with us nonstop the past few days, how the hell would she – “

 

“Does she have an evil twin we’re unaware of?” Ross said, more coldly than he had spoken so far.  “Son.  I know it’s hard, but your mate was lying to you.”

 

“She saved all of us from the blasts!  Why would she – “

 

“Alright, c’mon now,” Sam suddenly said, frowning his disappointed counselor frown at both of them.  “Steve, sit down.  General, please.  We’ve been down this road before, and it didn’t end well for anyone.  We all will vouch for Ryan,” he added, indicating everyone sitting around the table.  “There’s an explanation for this.”

 

Ross paused for a moment, then clicked the remote in his hand again.  The TV changed from the picture of Ryan - imposter-Ryan, Clint decided to call her - to a view of a snowy outdoors, looking over a gray, stone building.

 

“Just outside of Berlin, Germany, 1945,” Ross began, and the building exploded onscreen, rubble flying everywhere.  “The Howling Commandos.  A group of eight ordinary GIs and two enhanced individuals, single-handedly destroying over three dozen HYDRA bases and factories.  Effectively silencing the organization for the next seventy years.”

 

Another click, and Clint felt the blood rush from his head.  He knew that place.  He knew the dead man onscreen, an arrow through his heart, and the woman in the black dress sobbing over him. 

 

“Budapest, 2005,” Ross said.  “A single pair of assassins-for-hire effectively reshape the politics of eastern Europe for the next decade, with the murders of twenty-nine state officials in one week.”

 

He felt eyes land on him, and Clint opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the screen changed again.  A scene of pure destruction met them, buildings leveled and gorges torn from streets.  “Harlem, 2008.  A rogue scientist tests experimental drugs on himself, and ends up destroying half the borough before fleeing U.S. soil.”

 

Bruce closed his eyes, dropping his head with a shuddering exhale.  Immediately, Steve said, “Alright, that’s enough.”

 

“Almost done, Rogers,” Ross said, and the scene changed again.  It was Manhattan this time, crowds of people running and screaming as the Chitauri attacked from above.  In the distance, Tony in the original Iron Man suit shot repulsor beams at a flying monstrosity to no avail. 

 

“Manhattan, 2012.  Aliens rain down from the sky, and six individuals, all enhanced in some way, manage to stop fighting with each other for ten minutes and end up saving the world.”  Ross smirked at them for a moment.  “I’d show footage of Stark’s resume as well, but I think we have a good idea what he’s done already.”

 

“Enough,” Steve snapped again, and Clint could smell the dangerous edge to his scent from across the table.  “What is this?”

 

“This,” Ross said, clicking the remote again, “is all of those accomplishments, good or bad, made meaningless in one fell swoop.”

 

It was a red carpet scene, an anchorwoman interviewing a woman about their dress until a terrific _boom!_ drowned them out.  The camera shot to the side, where plumes of fire shot out the top floor of the Edwin Hotel, glass and rubble careening towards the crowds as more floors exploded out–

 

Until it all froze in place. 

 

More explosions shook the camera, people screaming and fleeing out of the entrances, but a blue light started to glow, encasing the entire building.  With a dazed, numb sort of recognition, Clint saw himself, pulling Darcy to safety behind him.  A few seconds later, the blue light disappeared, and the entire building collapsed at once.

 

The screen went black.  Ross stared coldly at them, the friendliness he’d pretended with Steve already gone.  “One girl.  No external aid, no training, no physical or biological enhancements beyond her own natural abilities, held an entire Manhattan building in midair.”

 

Clint blew out a quiet breath, barely able to believe it.  From the looks on the other’s faces, they felt same.  Shit, he knew Ryan was powerful, more powerful than any of them – but that?  He’d thought she was just holding back the explosions in the ballroom.  Thor and the Hulk _combined_ couldn’t hold up the entire building. 

 

And from the look on Ross’s face, he knew that, too.

 

“Ryan Adelina Green,” Ross continued in the silence.  “From our intel, born to unremarkable parents in an unremarkable time, with no known exposure to alien technology or biological enhancers.  Power only covets power, gentlemen.  As such, she is objectively the most dangerous individual currently known by U.S. intelligence.”

 

Clint felt a surge of equal parts protectiveness and rage, and couldn’t hold back a shout.  “Not to us!”

 

All eyes turned to him, and he clenched his jaw.  “She’s never tried to hurt any of us.  She’s never wanted to hurt anyone!”

 

“She set off over a dozen bombs in a New York City hotel during a major social event, killing over a hundred people in total, including prominent businessmen and others,” Ross countered coldly.  “Most importantly, the visiting King T’Chaka of Wakanda.”

 

Oh, _fuck_.  “A _king_ died?” Clint said, voice almost a squeak in the middle.

 

“A king was murdered,” Ross exclaimed, “and the U.S. government expects the full cooperation of the Avengers in apprehending the culprit behind this act of terrorism, no matter whose mate she is.”

 

“She could never do this,” Steve said firmly, raising his chin in defiance.  “Never.”

 

At that, it seemed Ross finally snapped.  “You are coddling someone who can raze a city with a flick of her finger!” he yelled, glowering over them.  “Your mate, Captain, is both a high-level threat to national security and a danger to everyone around her, and the United States government will not let that stand.”

 

Steve shot to his feet, mouth curling into a snarl when he heard it.  Ross paused as well, looking to Steve’s left in confusion. 

 

Bucky had finally broken his silence, throwing his head back as he howled with laughter.  Everyone stared, awkward and uncomfortable, as he clapped his flesh hand over his mouth, muffling the sound to a chuckle. 

 

Ross’ mouth curled into a snarl.  “Sergeant.  It appears I missed the joke.” 

 

Bucky snorted, shaking his head and thumping a fist on the table, next to where Steve had punched a hole through it.  After a moment, he managed a deep breath, sniggering as he exhaled.

 

“My mate?” he said, wiping at one eye.  “My mate can fight off a dozen men at a time.  My mate can take out guns, and tanks, and drones, and whatever else you could possibly come up with.  My mate can overthrow governments.”

 

He grinned up at Ross, the look almost feral.  “And that’s just Stevie here.”

 

“That’s it – security,” Ross called out, guards from the door coming in, “escort Rogers and Barnes to -- ”

 

“Ryan, on the other hand,” Bucky inserted, slowly getting to his feet.  “Ryan can hold back an army with a _thought_.”

 

He took a slow, menacing step towards Ross.  “Ryan can level the buildings she holds up with a wave of her hand.”

 

Another step, and Ross actually took a step back, the room turned to ice at the terrifying smile on Bucky’s face.  “Ryan can see every step you’ll ever take before you move an inch.”

 

The horrible grin slid off his face, cold fury burning in his eyes.  He held up his flesh hand, right in Ross’s face. 

 

“Ryan,” he growled, “can stop your heart in your chest like _that_ ,” and he snapped his fingers.  “Now, the question is, why hasn’t she, Ross?”

 

Ross glared daggers, but said nothing.  Clint was impressed.  If Bucky had been looking at him like that, he’d have turned tail and run, no shame.

 

Then, to his endless surprise, the ice melted, Bucky’s brown eyes shining with warmth.  “Because Ryan -- my mate -- is the best us all,” Bucky said, voice softening.  “Because Ryan has everything a power-coveting bastard like you could ever dream of, and she doesn’t give a _single fuck_ about it.  Because Ryan is _good_.  And I don’t expect you to understand that.”   

 

In the silence, a new voice spoke.

 

“Ryan,” it said, and Clint whipped his head around to the door.  A Black man stood tall and proud, flanked by two Black women with perfectly shaved heads, all three looking down on everyone.  What would be a handsome face on the man was marred by a dark, cold look of fury. 

 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” the man said, a strong, unfamiliar accent lilting his words.  “Rest assured, your mate will not be missing much longer.  My country will mourn my father’s death as it celebrates hers.”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could NOT decide where I wanted this to end? This was a good ending, though, I think. And the line spacing on AO3 is starting to bother me, so I tried spacing them more for this chapter - let me know what you think? 
> 
> Leave a comment if you like it so far! They really encourage me to write faster, I love hearing from you guys <3 <3


	4. In Which Bucky is Sassy and Nat Dreams of Getting Punched in the Face

 

 

_"If you’re ever in San Francisco, she and everyone would love you, and it’d be great to see you again.  Go to Pym Technologies, ask for…”_

 

_Who???_

 

Ryan jiggled her leg up and down, running a hand through her newly-short, addictingly-fuzzy hair on the back of her head.  What was she thinking?  This was insane, she was literally a fugitive, what the hell was she doing –

 

“Next stop: Market Street,” the cool female voice announced, and Ryan hopped off the bus into the familiar stench of big city, hot and sour and humid.  She joined a crowd of very hipster businesspeople heading south on the sidewalk, just like back home.  San Francisco’s tech district, she’d learned on her emergency cell phone, was similar to modern New York in that it was basically an exercise in white millennial gentrification, but PymTech had been there since just after Steve and Bucky’s first time.  Hank Pym founded it, the Darren Cross scandal two-ish years back shook up the leadership, and Ryan _could not remember_ the name Scott had told her to contact.

 

Helen?  Helga?  Harriet?  It was a girl’s name and began with H.  But who was named Harriet nowadays?

 

She hooked a right to turn west, glancing down at the map she’d scribbled on a napkin from the nice airline steward’s directions.  Not much further now.  Oh god, this was insane.  What was she even going to say?  She had no idea how to find the guy, really, and she’d only met him the one time – albeit after he’d saved her life, and she his, which should count as a good enough bonding experience, right? 

 

He shrank down and rode flying ants into battle, she reasoned.  He had to be chill with weirdness.  Hopefully, that extended to helping someone who accidentally outed themselves as a superpowered freak and was on the run from the FBI, or the CIA, or the Sheriff’s Secret Police, or whoever the hell was trying to kill her today.

 

Fuck.  She really wished Steve and Bucky were here.  It’d be nice to have someone with actual experience running for their life. 

 

And honestly?  She just wanted to hold their hands for a while, until her own stopped shaking so bad.

 

The crosswalk signal turned white, and just past the next skyscraper, it appeared.  Pym Technologies, huge and white like a city on a hill.  Now, to find the visitor entrance, make it past security, avoid any TVs playing her non-disguised face on the news, and track down one guy in a city of millions. 

 

Fuck. 

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

_Steve, **no!**_

 

Bucky’s sharp command jabbed in his brain, and he only paused long enough to send back, _Take right,_ _I’, left_ before charging headfirst at the new King of Wakanda.

 

Instantly, the two black women darted forward like snakes, and Steve just barely ducked a clawed swipe at his head before a pair of arms crushed his to his sides and yanked him back. 

 

_They’re Dora Milaje, you idiot!_ Bucky thought frantically, his grip a vice even Steve couldn’t wrestle open.  _Not here!_

 

“Security!” Ross was yelling over the chaos, Clint and Sam having thrown themselves between them and the women as Tony grabbed Bruce, shielding him against a wall.  Steve stopped struggling a moment to see the King, eyes dead and cold, staring him down through the crowd. 

 

Rage pooled in Steve’s stomach, but Bucky’s voice whispered again, _not yet, not here -_ and with a furious growl, he relented.The two women stepped smoothly back into place at the King’s sides as a dozen security guards burst through the door.  Steve slowly raised his hands, a dozen guns trained on his chest.

 

“Cuff them,” Ross barked, and a guard with an ugly sneer and a terrified scent – amateur – tried to pull one of Steve’s wrists down.  He might as well have tugged on a statue.

 

_What’s your play?_

 

_Cooperate for now,_ Bucky sent back, the thoughts more feeling than words.   _He wants more from us.  Use it against him._

 

The exchange took less than a second, and Steve lowered his arms, Bucky already locked down beside him.  Shock cuffs; predictable.  Bureaucrats had no imagination.  “I apologize, General,” Steve said aloud, trying to sound contrite.  “Instinct.  You know how it is.”

 

The other Alpha puffed out his chest a little, and Steve wanted to barf.  “No harm done, right, Your Highness?” Ross directed at the King.  “Can I call you T’Challa?”

 

T’Challa regarded him coolly for a moment, then said, “My country has been on good terms with the Americans until now.  When his murderer is brought to justice, that shall continue.”  He looked to Steve then, raising an eyebrow almost mockingly.  “That is all I meant, Captain America.  Though I doubt you deserve the title still, if your judgment is so lacking you willingly mated such a threat to your country.”

 

Steve stared right back at him.  “To search out the truth is the honor of kings, Your Highness.” 

 

He saw Clint give Sam a confused look, and just kept from rolling his eyes.  So he was still Catholic, sue him.  Shaming someone with just the right Bible verse was a time-honored tradition. 

 

T’Challa didn’t seem affected, though.  “The truth, Captain, is already before our eyes.  If you choose blindness, so be it.”

 

_So be it_ , Steve thought.

 

Ross cleared his throat, then waved the security guards out.  “You will be updated every step of the way, Your Highness.  The Avengers have promised full cooperation.  With their help, we’ll nail Green’s ass to the wall by end of the week.”

 

T’Challa tilted his head.  “I would believe you, had you not managed to let her slip through your fingers already.  If you cannot do the job, I will.”  With that, he turned around and marched out the door, his bodyguards silent beside him.

 

As he disappeared, Ross’s faked smile did, too.  He glared at all of them in turn, lingering for a moment on Bruce’s still-pale form.  Then, he said, “You’re free to go.”

 

“Wait, what?” Clint exclaimed.  Ross slowly smiled again, real and cruel and taunting. 

 

“What use are you all in here?” he replied.  He turned to Bucky, then Steve.  “Your Ryan’s out there all alone and scared, I bet.  Bring her in from the cold, and we’ll see what I can do to help her.”

 

The gauntlet was on the floor, and Ross knew they had no choice.  Lead them right to Ryan, or leave Ryan to them.  No choice at all. 

 

A soft chuckle, and everyone looked to Bucky again.  Ross suddenly looked nervous, and Bucky grinned that terrible, feral grin at him.  A quick _snap!_ of metal, and Bucky shook out his wrists, pieces of shock cuff clattering to the floor. 

 

“Oh, they worked,” he said blithely, jailbreaking Steve’s cuffs as Ross stared at them.  “But you really think those would bother me, after the chair?”

 

He saluted Ross with two fingers, took Steve’s freed hand, and led them out, the other Avengers quickly following behind.

 

_What’s your play?_ Bucky thought to him, and Steve could feel him settling into the role of Sergeant, ready to follow into the jaws of death.

 

_Find Ryan.  Disappear._

 

_We can’t look like we’re looking for her._

 

_I’ve got an idea._

 

“Hey, guys?” Clint whispered behind them, and Steve slowed just a hair, keeping his eyes straight ahead.  “Can someone grab Darcy while I break Nat out of jail real quick?”

 

Bucky sighed, but nodded.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

           

 

_Oh god, oh god, how do guys talk?_   “Hey, man, I’ve got a meeting with, uh, a family friend here, do I need a – a pass or something?” 

 

“Name,” the guard intoned, not looking up from the solitaire game on his computer.

 

“Ry – uh,” she stumbled, cheeks flooding red, “C-Craig Hardison.”

 

The guard glanced up at her then, narrowing his eyes like he thought she was an idiot.  She crushed the napkin-map in her hand to keep it from shaking too hard.  “Can I see some ID?”

 

Oh please, God, oh please have let her gotten the name right, what if she’d said the wrong name, _no, no, no_ – “Sure, man, here,” she managed, and handed over her fake license. 

 

He raised an eyebrow, but handed it back without question.  “Who’s the meeting with?”

 

**_Fuck_** _._ A nervous laugh escaped her, almost an octave too high, and he stared as she bounced from foot to foot.  “This is gonna sound so dumb, man, but I can’t remember her name – my c-cousin Scott set it up, her name begins with an H?  Helen, or Holly, or…”

 

The eyebrow climbed higher.  “Hope?  van Dyne?”

 

“ _Yes!_ ” she yelled, way too loud, and she felt the eyes of everyone else in the lobby turn her way for a moment.  She cleared her throat, cheeks still flaming.  “Uh, yeah, that was it.”

 

“Your cousin Scott set you up a meeting,” the guard said slowly, “with the chairman of the board of Pym Technologies?”

 

Oh, _god_.  “Um.  Yes?”

 

The guard paused a moment, then reached out and grabbed the phone from his desk, eyes never leaving her.  He dialed a few numbers blind, then put the phone to his ear.  “Hello, Miss van Dyne, this is Jamal from security.  I have a Craig Hardison here, says he has a meeting with you today?”

 

No, no, no – she twisted her hands together, the napkin-map turning to shreds in her damp palms – oh, fuck, her eyes weren’t glowing, were they?!  That happened sometimes when she freaked out –

 

“Tell her Scott Lang sent me!” she whispered desperately at the guard, who was slowly reaching his free hand down to his hip.  “Please!”

 

Blessedly, he added, “He claims a Scott Lang set it up?” 

 

A pause, then he repeated, “Craig Hardison, set up by Scott Lang.”  He leveled a cool glare at Ryan, then said, “Right away, ma’am.  Have a great day.”  He hung up the phone, then tossed a visitor’s pass at her and waved her on.  Ryan’s heart physically hurt from pumping so hard, and the other guard at the metal detectors gave her a strange look, but she passed there, too.

 

“Top floor, sir,” he said, indicating the elevator across the hall, and a minute later, a secretary directed her to a large, modern office, a very pretty Alpha with black hair in a bob sitting inside.

 

“Thanks, Trish,” Hope chirped, and Trish closed the door behind her. 

 

“Um, hi,” Ryan started as Hope opened a drawer in her desk, rummaging for something inside.  “So, first off, I’m so sorry about the confusion, I know we’ve never met, but – _hey!_ ”

 

“Can it,” Hope said drily, the handgun aimed steady between Ryan’s eyes.  “Who the hell are you, and what do you want with PymTech?”

 

“I’m Ryan!  My real name’s Ryan,” she blurted out, voice back to its normal pitch.  “I’m a friend of Scott’s, he said if I was ever in San Francisco to ask for you so I could find his apartment!”

 

She blinked at her.  “Wait, seriously?”

 

“Yes!” Ryan squeaked, eyes still fixed on the gun.  Logically, she knew she wasn’t in any danger, really, but logic wasn’t trained on blowing her brains out from three feet away.

 

“You’re not AIM, or HYDRA, or anyone else trying to get Pym particles?”

 

“ _What?!_ ” Ryan exclaimed, forgetting her fear at the accusation.  “What the _fuck_ , I’m not HYDRA!  Why the hell would you think that?  And what on earth’s a Pym particle?!”

 

Hope blinked again, then said, “Huh.”  She lowered the gun, then tossed it back in its drawer like it was a pack of Post-Its.  “Sorry about that.  Scott doesn’t really have many friends.”

 

“So you thought I was a Nazi?!”

 

Hope shrugged, then stuck out her hand.  “Can’t be too careful.  Hope van Dyne.”

 

“Ryan,” she replied, automatically shaking her hand.  Hope’s grip was firm, her palm noticeably rough.  If she hadn’t had the gun, Ryan thought, she might have just broken Ryan’s neck instead.  Natasha would love her.  “So.  Um, Scott’s address?”

 

“How do you know Scott?” Hope said, ignoring her.

 

“Um.  He helped me out last year,” Ryan said softly.  “In December?  He probably would’ve disappeared for a few days?”

 

Hope’s eyes went wide.  “So.  Ryan Green, then.  Relax,” she added quickly, as Ryan suddenly tensed.  “Scott trusts you.  And the Avengers do, obviously.  Sorry we couldn’t make it to your mating ceremony, though.”

 

Ryan blinked, gears clunking in her brain for a second before it clicked.  “Oh!  You’re, um, you must be Scott’s girlfriend, then?  He’d emailed back about a plus-one.”

 

She nodded, a soft smile on her lips.  “I’m sorry if me knowing about you was a breach of privacy.  To be fair, I beat it out of him.”

 

Ryan believed it.  “Yeah, um.  Obviously that’s kinda out the window, now.”

 

Hope hummed in agreement, leaning in near her monitor and tapping on her keyboard.  “You’re doing a pretty terrible job of being on the run, by the way.  There’s security everywhere in here.”

 

“I have no idea what I’m doing.  As evidenced by almost getting caught by Jamal at the front desk,” Ryan laughed weakly. 

 

“And… done.”  Hope leaned back, giving her a reassuring smile.  “All evidence you were here is gone.  And you made one good choice, regardless.”  At Ryan’s questioning look, she added softly, “Scott and the boys will help.  They do that.”

 

On the way back down in Hope’s private elevator, a thought occurred to Ryan.  “Hope?  Why did Scott tell me to find you instead of just giving me his address?”

 

Hope rolled her eyes so powerfully it reminded her of Bucky talking to Sam.  “Google Earth listed his apartment complex as a landfill a while back, so GPS’s can never find it.”

 

“Wait, that’s it?”

 

“Scott’s got the occasional flare for the dramatic,” she said flatly.  “He’s lucky I love him.”

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

“Are you alright, _zvezdochka moya_?” Clint heard Nat whisper into Darcy’s ear, her hand carding through his hair as he sped them through traffic, morning sun blinding from the east.

 

“I’m fucking pissed, that’s what I am,” Darcy snarked, but she leaned into Natasha’s lips against her forehead.  Nat always got a little handsy after a mission, but they had no time to indulge today, to Clint’s slight disappointment.  “What the fuck do we do now?”

 

“You’re getting on a plane to Iowa,” Clint replied.  “Stay with your parents until we figure it out.”

 

“I’m gonna be nice and give you a redo, there, because it’s been a long fucking night for all of us, but that’s not what you’re gonna want to say to me again.”

 

“Darce – “

 

“No.”

 

A few beats of silence, and Natasha sighed.  “We can’t force you.  But having you safe will help.”

 

“When Ryan’s safe, I’ll go wherever the fuck you want,” Darcy spat.  “I’m not abandoning her.  Now come on, what’s the plan?”

 

Clint sighed this time, screaming past a cement truck and jerking them into the next lane.  The others should already be waiting at Bucky’s safehouse, and NYC traffic would not be the reason Ryan’s life stayed in danger.  “We find her, Ross is right on our tail.  We leave her out there, she won’t last a week before they find her.  And Steve and Bucky haven’t spoken aloud except to chew out Ross.”

 

“Not at all?” Nat said quickly, turning to him with furrowed brows.  He shook his head, and her frown turned thoughtful.  “Not even in Irish?”

 

“I thought of that, too.  And, I mean, Steve attacking that asshat Prince-King-whatever was an obvious move, but I swear to God Bucky knew _exactly_ how he was going to do it.  It’s like they’re reading… oh, fuck.”

 

“Took you long enough,” Natasha said with a hint of amusement. 

 

“I’m an idiot.”

 

“We still love you.  Mostly.”

 

“The hell are you guys talking about?” Darcy complained.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

“Bruce.  Go home.”

 

“I’m fine, Bucky,” he started, but Bucky cut him off.

 

“You were just recaptured by your HYDRA,” he said, more softly this time.  “You’re not.  We’ll call you if we need you.  Go.”

 

Bruce glanced up at Tony, leaning against the far wall of the mostly-bare apartment, almost as far as he could get from the table where Sam, Steve and Bruce sat and Bucky stood in between.  Tony nodded, reaching into his pocket and tossing Bruce a cell phone.  “Call one of the cars, I got their AIs fixed up last week.  Still not street legal, but after yesterday no one’s gonna care – ”

 

Bruce stood up, walked over to Tony, and pulled him into a hug.  “I think I want to walk.  But thank you.”

 

Tony closed his eyes, and for a second, Bucky watched as they just held each other.  He didn’t know their whole history, but sometimes – times like now – Bucky thought that if it hadn’t always been Pepper, it would be Bruce.

 

Tony whispered something Bucky chose not to hear, and Bruce chuckled before letting him go.  “Call when there’s news.”  Then, with a quick glance back to the table, he disappeared out the back. 

 

As soon as he’d gone, a pair of footsteps came up the front, and Natasha and Clint entered silently before Darcy clomped inside.  Shit, Ryan was as untrained as Darcy, what if she was already –

 

_Don’t_ , Steve whispered.  _If they’d found her, we’d know._ A small pause, and he added, _I’ve thought that about Tony and Bruce, too._

 

_Quit poking around my brain, Rogers,_ Bucky sent back, holding onto the slim thread between them like a lifeline.  He felt Steve’s mood lift just a little, just for a moment, like they’d brushed their shoulders together without moving.

 

_You sure about this?_ he asked, one last time.  _Ryan might not want people to know_.

 

_It’s our best shot_. 

 

“It’s bad manners to talk psychically amongst company, boys,” Natasha suddenly said, and Steve actually startled, their connection slamming shut.  Then, he chuckled a little, shaking his head at both her smug look and Sam’s gaping mouth. 

 

“Well, that saves some time,” Steve said, glancing over at Bucky.  “How’d you know?”

 

Natasha huffed, grabbing the last chair at the table and pushing Darcy down into it.  “You’ve never been subtle, Rogers.  At least pretend to talk to each other out loud.”

 

“To be fair, it took me a lot longer than it took her,” Clint added with a shrug. 

 

Sam finally made a sound, a sputtering, disbelieving noise.  “What, you guys mated, and now you can Vulcan mind-meld or something?  Ryan’s powers are _nuts_ , man.”  He tutted, shaking his head.  Then, he suddenly crossed two fingers, throwing them up at Bucky like he was warding off a vampire.  “You better not be messing around in my brain, Barnes, or I swear I will beat your white ass with your own metal arm – “

 

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard it hurt a little.  “It’s a connection between the three of us, moron.  Only Ryan can read other people’s minds.”

 

“And imposter-Ryan, maybe,” Clint said darkly, and the mood dropped with his voice.  “If it really wasn’t faked.” 

 

Everyone turned to Tony, then, who was still standing across the room, staring at the closed front door.  He’d been functionally silent since Ross first appeared, and he didn’t seem to want to talk now.  Shit, Tony had PTSD, didn’t he?  Something wasn’t good in his head, more so than usual. 

 

Bucky reached out mentally for Steve again, relaying his suspicions when Steve let him in.  Steve frowned in response, then stood up from the table.  “Tony.  Please.  We need your help to figure out what was really on that tape – “

 

“It was Ryan!”

 

Steve reeled back a little, and a furious disbelief flashed across the bond.  “Did you learn anything,” he growled, “ _anything_ from the last time we sent Ryan running?  Or did you just – “

 

“Oh, enough with the self-righteous bullshit,” Tony spat, finally turning to face them.  “You know they’re already running obits?  Look.”  He whipped out his phone, a holographic projection showing a teenage boy’s face, smiling and happy. 

 

“Charles Spencer.  4.0 GPA, skipped a couple grades, earning his computer engineering degree at NYU while interning for SI.  Pepper likes adopting them young, raise ‘em right.  He got sat right up front for being a buzzing little worker bee.  Hell, he brought his _mom_ as his date,” Tony said, voice cracking at the end.  “He was gonna travel over the winter.  Put a few miles on his soul before it got parked behind a desk.”

 

“Tony – “

 

“She doesn’t have an evil twin!” Tony shouted, smashing the phone to the ground with a _bang!_   “The tape isn’t doctored!  There are no wires, no magnets, nothing that made that fucking bomb fly into the ceiling by itself!  It’s either her, or someone perfectly disguised with the same powers – and none of you seem to realize that means someone’s _framing her!_ ”

 

“Jesus H. Christ,” Bucky snarled, “of course someone’s framing her – “

 

“ _Why?”_ Tony whispered, low and hoarse.  “Why?  Who even knew about her powers?  Who hates someone like her that much?” 

 

He threw his hands in the air, shrugging his shoulders.  “No one does.  So what, someone just wants her separated from us to capture her?  Who?  The government?  They could have snatched her from your damn bed.  HYDRA?  Worse?  Why would they blow up the Edwin, anyway?  No.  They want us to think it’s about her.  But as per _fucking_ always, this all comes back to _me_.”

 

“Hold on, Tony,” Sam inserted softly, holding up a hand, but Tony ignored him.

 

“No, see, they used _my_ event, _my_ invention to kill _my_ guests and investors and friends, and used _my family_ to cover it up!  It’s _my fault_ those people are dead!” 

 

He paused, breathing hard.  “I don’t know who’s on that tape.  But they made it real fucking clear it’s my job to clean up the mess.  Oh, and, Spangles?” he added, turning back to Steve.  “I’ve learned that no matter what I do or don’t, I _can’t_ protect the people I love.  And neither can any of you.”      

 

No one seemed to have anything to say.  Bucky sure as hell didn’t.  Tony sighed through his nose, shoulders shrinking down and eyes dropping shut.  Then, he muttered, “There has to be a change.  It can’t just be the Avengers going off - _avenging_ \- anymore.  We’re supposed to save people, not get them killed.”

 

An uneasy chill ran across the bond from Steve, and Bucky’s frown deepened.  “People will always be in danger, Tony,” Steve said, perhaps just a tad too firmly.  “That’s reality.  We save as many as we can.  That’s why we’re here.”

 

Tony snorted.  “Now who hasn’t learned anything from Green?”  He reopened his eyes, looking back at Steve.  “It was _us_ who put her in danger, both times.  Our mistakes just exposed the most powerful superhuman _in the world_ against her will.  How many of our own fires do we douse before we decide to stop setting them?”

 

“Hey, Tony,” Sam tried again, and everyone looked to him this time.  “None of us is saying your words don’t have merit.  But one of ours is in danger _right now_.  And Ryan deserves a say in all this, too.  So, right now, can we focus on getting her safe and clearing her name?”

 

Tony’s jaw tightened for a moment, but Bucky watched as his usual cool, indifferent mask slipped easily back into place.  “Whatever.  I’ll send a check for the consult, shrinky-dink.”

 

It was a damned good testament to the patience Steve had learned in the future that Bucky didn’t feel him bristle at Tony’s rudeness anymore.  At least one good thing came from the guy’s motormouth.   “Right now, it’s three against one, everyone,” Steve started, flipping Captain America on like a light switch.  “The U.S. agencies under Ross, the Wakandans, and whoever set Ryan up – imposter-Ryan,” he said flatly, as Clint opened his mouth, “will all be after her.  Buck and I have to find her first.”

 

“That’s exactly what they want,” Nat pointed out drily. 

 

“And honestly, we have to assume Ross and imposter-Ryan at least already know where she is,” Clint said.  “They’ve been searching this whole time, she doesn’t know how to hide her tracks.”

 

“I disagree,” Sam replied.  “Ross hadn’t found her as of a few hours ago.  And if imposter-Ryan wanted to kidnap her, there are easier ways than bombing an NYC hotel.”  He frowned at Steve then, furrowing his brows.  “After you find regular Ryan, then what?  You three just – disappear?”

 

“For a while, yeah,” Steve said quietly.  “She didn’t want her powers exposed, ever.  We’ll need some time to plan what’s next.  And… we have to be prepared for the event that we can’t prove her innocence, too.” 

 

He paused, looking around to everyone.  “Even if we succeed, though, imposter-Ryan will likely target all of you again.  If you absolutely need us, we’ll come back.  I know it’s asking a lot, but – “

 

“We owe all three of you a lot,” Clint inserted, and the others nodded.  “We can handle it.  You guys just get her safe.” 

 

“How are you guys going to find her, anyways?” Darcy asked, speaking up for the first time.  “She’s probably underground in Boston by now.”

 

Bucky glanced over at Steve, and their eyes met briefly before turning back to the group.  “We’re going to try the mental link.  Obviously, it’s brand-new and we barely know how it works, but besides the conventional ways everyone else is trying, it’s all we’ve got.”

 

“Great.  The fate of the world rests in the hands of John Edward and Miss Cleo,” Tony spat, crossing his arms.  “And the rest of us?”

 

“Well, gee, that depends.  Can you maybe hack a computer?” Steve said, giving him a flat look.  Maybe he was just getting better at letting fewer emotions through the bond, Bucky thought.  “We need to know what Ross knows, ideally when he does.  Unless you’d rather call up Miss Cleo and ask her to read his mind, instead.”

 

Tony shot him a murderous look, but nodded once before stalking out the front door.  As it closed, Steve turned to Sam.  “Go with him, please?  Keep him sane, for now.  And check on Bruce.”

 

Sam’s lips pursed, but he nodded, too.  “Y’all owe me.  He’s going to be so cranky.”

 

“Noted,” Steve said, and Sam clapped him on the shoulder as he left.  “Nat, Clint, you’re on the Wakandans.  If King T’Challa’s smart, he’s waiting to piggyback on Ross or us finding her.  Keep an eye on him, and those bodyguards.”

 

“The Dora Milaje,” Nat said, with an almost dreamy look on her face.  “Amazing.  Those ladies could punch me in the face and I wouldn’t even mind.”

 

“That is a really weird thing to say, babe.  For you, anyway,” Darcy said, giving her a slightly concerned look.  

 

“You kidding?  They’re goddesses," Clint said rapturously.  "They could punch me in the _balls_ and I wouldn’t mind.” 

 

Steve sighed as Darcy frowned in alarm.  “Okay.  Just watch for now.  Darcy, keep them from getting punched, please?”

 

All three of them nodded, and Darcy led them back out, her footsteps loud in the new silence.  But as the door swung closed, Natasha caught it. 

 

“Tony’s right, you know.”

 

Steve frowned at her, and Bucky just watched.  “One thing at a time,” Steve said, and she nodded again.

 

“Ryan will have sought out a friendly face by now,” Nat added.  “She’s smart enough not to have gone back to Boston.  If you get stuck, try focusing on where she could be, too.”

 

Steve half-smiled.  “The Great Romanova sees and knows all?”

 

“ _Da_.”  She gave them a small smile, then closed the door behind her. 

 

When it was just the two of them, Bucky turned to Steve, holding out a hand.  Steve took it, squeezed once, then stood up from the table.  He led them into the single bedroom, where only an old mattress lived, nudged into a corner on the floor.  Out of habit, they stripped off their shoes and socks, then sat cross-legged on either end, clutching both hands now.

 

_How the hell do we even do this, Stevie?_

 

Steve exhaled slowly, and Bucky felt his mind start to calm, the thread between them going still.  _Focus.  Follow whatever this is that’s connecting all of us.  We’ll find her._

 

Bucky closed his eyes, letting the quiet roll over him.  He thought of Ryan's shy smile, when she turned water into snow over their heads.  Her ecstatic laugh, holding his hand in a death grip as she flew for the first time.  Her eyes shining like supernovas, when she kept the world from caving in.  

 

He thought of how fucking much he loved her, and followed it far, far away.

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

"Huh.  I guess I see the whole Google Earth-dumpster thing," Ryan said, chuckling a little out the window as Hope rolled them to a stop.

 

Hope huffed, rubbing some lipstick off her teeth in the rearview mirror.  "I've asked him a million times to move in with me, but he still won't.  Granted, he and Luis are practically codependent."

 

"Luis?"

 

She grimaced a little, opening the car door.  "You'll love him or you'll hate him.  Come on, we need to get you inside."

 

Halfway up the third set of horrible, creaky stairs, Ryan heard it.  

 

"Bucky?" she exclaimed, whipping back around.  "Steve!"

 

A hand clapped around her mouth, and she instinctively grabbed the wrist and twisted it.  She ducked under and away, shoulder-checking the assailant to the floor.  Hope landed with a thud and a groan, and Ryan jumped down a stair in horror.  "Oh my god, I'm so sorry - "

 

Hope held up a hand, giving her an appraising look.  "How did you do that?"

 

Ryan cleared her throat, looking down at her feet as she waved a hand.  "The, uh.  You know.  It's instinct, when I... don't totally panic."

 

"Right."  Hope narrowed her eyes, then gestured back up the stairs.  "Come on, before someone finds you.  No more shouting, either."

 

"Sorry," Ryan breathed, looking around again.  She could've _sworn_ \- but, no, that was impossible.  More than, it was crazy.  She hurried up the stairs after Hope, emerging on the fourth floor landing.  Hope was digging in her purse outside door number forty-eight at the end of the hall, and Ryan pulled her baseball cap down a little further in front of the window.  "Oh hey, that's nice, you can see the Golden Gate - "

 

**_Ryan!_ **

 

Ryan gasped, her vision going black as she stumbled into the wall.  For a split second, she saw a bare, white room, and caught a flash of very familiar -

 

She ducked her head to hide her eyes, and focused harder than she ever had.   _Steve!  Bucky!_

 

Triumphant joy, like a flash of lightning, and -

 

_We're coming._  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First note: I FUCKING LOVE THE POPE, I HAVE CATHOLIC FAMILY AND FRIENDS, ANYONE WHO PRACTICES GOOD LOVING CATHOLICISM AND ISN’T MEAN TO OTHERS IS A-OKAY IN MY BOOK. The Catholic jab was a self-deprecating one, not meant to be an insult to the religion. In case anyone was offended by that. 
> 
> Second note: I fucked up the timelines between Ryan scenes and Steve/Bucky scenes a little, in case you hadn’t already noticed. I’ll fix it down the road, probably once the story’s done and I can alter past writing without fucking up future things, but the last scene there is an indication that stuff is happening simultaneously again/now.
> 
> Third note: I'm so sorry about the time it's been taking to post these. B+W+G ended up being fairly popular, and I feel like I'm letting whoever stuck around for the sequel down. Grad school sucks up a lot of my little-to-begin-with energy, and I'm currently in a horrible roommate situation, and my grandfather also very recently passed away. Excuses, excuses. But, with the advent of summer meaning no more teaching/grading/class and the fact that I'm moving into my own apartment in a few weeks, I should have more time and healthy mental energy to devote to this. 
> 
> Fourth note: I love you all, thanks for reading <3 <3 <3


	5. In Which Ryan Meets Cassie and Luis

Ryan slumped against the wall, knees weak with relief.  _Oh god, thank God – where are you now?  What’s – guys?_

 

It had gone silent.  She tugged on the thread, searching for them in her mind, but they’d disappeared.  Frustration and worry spiked through her, and she grit her teeth against a sudden rush of tears.  Things start going right, then take a sharp left back to reality.  Typical.  Was a full ten seconds with her mates too much to ask?

 

Jesus, Ryan.  Suck it up.  There were bigger problems than her missing her mates.

 

“Hey!” Hope hissed in her ear, and Ryan belatedly realized she was shaking her by the shoulders.  “Come on, wake up!”

 

“I’m fine!”  She held up both hands in innocence, Hope staring with furrowed brows.  “Sorry, I just – “

 

“Inside,” Hope inserted, cutting her off with a finger-jab towards the door.  Ryan quickly obeyed, feeling suddenly like a kid caught out after curfew. 

 

The apartment wasn’t Tony-sized, but it wasn’t small, despite the trashed kitchen cramping the space.  Potato chip bags and pizza boxes littered the counters, the sink hidden beneath a leaning Pisa of dirty dishes she suddenly felt the urge to clean. 

 

Around the table, though, sat a party of stuffed animals in tiaras and dresses, most notably a terrifyingly ugly bunny rabbit wearing a bowtie and crown.  Their teapot was a Brita pitcher, red Solo cups their china, and the sight made Ryan smile. 

 

“Scott?” Hope called out, shoving aside empty soda cans to set her purse on the counter.  They clattered to the floor, and Ryan cringed a little at the mess.  Weird – she liked her own stuff pretty clean, but never really cared about other’s messes.  To be fair, though, the kitchen was barely recognizable as one.

 

From the next room, Scott’s voice answered, “We’re in the pillow fort, babe!”  It was dark, curtains pulled shut, but Ryan could see light from the TV on the walls.  “You’re back early, everything good?” 

 

Hope rolled her eyes, but the sappy smile ruined the effect.  “Can you come out, please?  I need to talk to you for a sec.”

 

“Yeah, just a – _ow_ , Jes…eese and crackers,” his voice said, and a girly squeal of laughter followed.  Scott finally came round the corner, rubbing his head as it turned back towards the living room.  “Don’t swear, Cassie, it’s bad and Daddy shouldn’t do it.”                

 

“Daddy?!  Is _pendejo_ a bad word?  Cause Luis calls Davey and Kurt _pendejo_ all the time – “

 

“No!” Scott exclaimed, eyes blowing wide.  “I mean, yes!  It’s a bad word, don’t say that in front of your mother, please.  I’m gonna kill him,” he added, turning around to the kitchen at last.  “I’m gonna shrink him down and – holy _shit!_ ”

 

“Daddy!  No swearing!” the girl yelled, and Ryan just held back a snort of laughter, clapping a hand to her mouth.  Scott stared at her blankly, mouth dropped open in surprise.  Finally, he blinked, then thrust out his right hand, a big smile spreading over his face. 

 

“Oh my god – um, hi!  It’s been a while, how are you?” he babbled, shaking her hand a little too fast.  “Good to see you, your hair’s totally different – “

 

“It’s good to see you too,” Ryan said, his smile contagious.  She’d forgotten, since those brief few minutes when they’d last talked, just how nice he was.

 

His eyes somehow widened further.  “Oh my god, you’re talking now!  That’s great!  I mean, I figured you were doing better, the whole mating ceremony and all – sorry we couldn’t make it, by the way, Cassie’s mom and her step-dad are on an adult cruise and I’ve got Cassie all week – “

 

“Oh, it’s fine!” Ryan inserted, but Scott kept going.

 

“ – but anyway, you could have a mating ceremony without talking, I guess, but it probably… makes it easier?” he finished, making it sound like a question. 

 

Ryan blinked in confusion for a second before it hit her.  Right.  Those last few minutes had been in that SHIELD compound in Pennsylvania, back when her scars were still bleeding.  “Uh, y-yeah,” she stammered, “yeah, that does… Yeah, I’m doing a lot better, y’know, for the most part.  The past two days notwithstanding.”

 

Scott’s smile turned to concern.  “Did something happen?”  He gasped, then added, “Oh no, did the engagement fall through?  Oh, I can’t believe it – I’m so sorry, I’d even made you guys that cool toaster – “

 

“No!  No, no, we’re – me and Steve and Bucky are fine!  Great, even, the ceremony was amazing, and we’re… all good,” Ryan managed through her surprise.  Did he seriously not know?  “It’s just - um.  How long have you been in the pillow fort?”

 

At that point, Hope seemed to lose her patience, thrusting her phone at his face.  “Watch the goddamn news once in a while, babe.”

 

“We’ve been marathoning Disney movies, you know – that.”  His voice dropped flat as he grabbed the phone, scrolling quickly for a few moments.  “Maybe you’d better give us your side,” he murmured, glancing back up.  He gestured to the table, hurrying over to clear a few chairs. 

 

When they sat, Ryan told them everything, every detail spilling out.  For all that Hope seemed intimidating, Scott seemed open, and surprisingly easy to talk to.  He listened without interrupting, just nodding her along when the words got stuck.  She explained that she didn’t know who specifically was after her, but how Tony had told her to run, and Natasha had been caught, and Luke and Jess and Pop almost paid the price for helping her.

 

“I was in the airport, and I didn’t know where to go, and… I remembered you said I should visit if I was ever out here, and you’d helped me when – you know, and – I didn’t know where else to go,” she finished, staring at her hands.  She absentmindedly itched at one of her scars, and she felt their eyes follow.  “I know I’m putting you in danger again, but I – “

 

“Hey, no,” Scott finally spoke up.  To her surprise, he reached across the table, grabbing one of her hands and squeezing gently.  “I’m glad you thought of here as a safe place.  I mean, if it was me, or Hope, or Cassie – god forbid,” he muttered, eyes flitting to the living room.  “If Cassie was in this kind of trouble, I’d want someone like you helping her.”

 

Well, that was way too sincere for Ryan’s overtired emotional state.  She quickly pulled her hand back, before she broke down crying in front of a bespectacled crocodile, a tutu-wearing koala, and the stuffed bunny from hell. 

 

“Um.  Thank you,” she murmured, trying her best to smile.  “Well, the good news is, Steve and Bucky are on their way.  That’s what the hallway was,” she directed at Hope, who narrowed her eyes.  “The – after we mated, I accidentally – we can talk to each other in our heads.  Apparently long-distance, if they concentrate hard enough.”

 

“O-kay,” Hope said, pursing her lips.  “Telepathy.  Right.  Well,” she directed at Scott, “we weren’t followed on the way here and she only has a burner phone.  I assume Captain America can figure out a way here without being followed.  Do you still need me?”

 

“No, no, go back to work.  Suit’s here, and I’ll call the guys, we’ll get started.”  He leaned in for a quick kiss, and gave her a dopey smile as she grabbed her purse.  “Love you.”

 

“You, too,” she smiled, and locked the door behind her.

 

When she was gone, Scott blew out a breath, then pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing out what looked like a group text.  He sent it, then clicked his phone off, turning back to her.  “Can I ask something?”  As she nodded, he said, “The hotel?  How – what did that feel like?”

 

Ryan blinked.  “You mean, when I held up the ballroom, during the explosion?  I dunno, I guess it was like when normal people get adrenaline rushes and lift cars off their kids, or something. “

 

Scott chuckled a little.  “Well, it’s a little cooler than that – you would’ve been holding, what, 6,000 cars, give or take?  That’s fuc – freaking, incredible.  And I thought bringing down that mansion by accident was impressive.”

 

Six thousand?  What?  “Well, I don’t know if one room weighs quite that much,” Ryan said modestly, “but, yeah.  I don’t want to ever try it again, considering it almost crushed everyone, but I’m glad everyone’s okay.”

 

Scott furrowed his brows.  He grabbed his phone again, keying in the password.  “Um.  Have you looked at any of the news stories about you?”

 

Her stomach twisted.  “Well, no.  I asked Luke, but Pop told me not to.  I – I figure they’re making me a scapegoat, though.  If they put everyone on alert, they get to cut me open and poke at my DNA all the sooner,” she said, voice and mood dropping even lower.  She jiggled her leg unconsciously, eyes drawn back to the sink of dishes.  Would he mind if she started cleaning?

 

Then, a shout from the living room made them both jump.  “Daddy!  It’s time for Frozen!”

 

“Oh!”  Scott jumped up, shoving his phone back in his pocket.  “God, sorry – come on, come meet Cassie.”

 

Cassie was in the pillow fort still, a massive thing of woven blankets and clothespins and Christmas lights that took up the whole living room.  Scott ducked under one end, and the credits to _The Princess and the Frog_ paused.  “Hey, peanut, someone’s here I want you to meet, can you come out?”

 

“Okay!”  A little girl, maybe eight or nine, crawled out a moment later.  A tiara sat atop brown curls, and cute gossamer fairy wings that matched her lavender dress had gone askew.  She looked up at Ryan, then frowned, holding out her left hand.  “Who’re you?”

 

“No, Cas,” Scott said quickly, popping up beside her, “use your right, and it’s polite to say ‘nice to meet you, I’m Cassie.’”

 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Cassie,” she parroted, and Ryan’s heart melted a little.  Good lord, this kid was _adorable_. 

 

“Nice to meet you too, Cassie.  My name’s Ryan.”  They shook hands, Ryan grinning down at her. 

 

The frown didn’t leave Cassie’s face, though, and her own smile faded.  “Are you a criminal?” Cassie suddenly said, and Scott’s eyes flew wide.  Ryan just stood there, stunned.  First Hope calling her a Nazi, now Cassie.  What was with Californians and accusing people of law-breaking?

 

“Oh my god – Cassie, no, why would you say that?” Scott demanded, folding his arms.  Cassie stuck her hands on her hips, glaring up at her dad.

 

“Cause Hope _just said_ bad people were following her, and Luis told me not to talk to any other criminals – “

 

“Other criminals?” Ryan said in surprise, and Scott froze like a deer in headlights. 

 

“Luis and Kurt and Davey and Daddy are criminals,” Cassie declared proudly, “but good ones like Robin Hood, not bad like the Wasp-man – “

 

“Wait, _what?_ ”

 

“The Wasp-man!” Cassie insisted, “that’s what Paxton called him, he tried to kidnap me but Daddy shrunk him and he’s probably smushed – “

 

“Okay!” Scott inserted, voice strangled.  He stepped in front of Cassie, holding up his hands in innocence.  “Right, uh – “

 

“ – but if bad people are after you, then you’re probably a bad criminal – “

 

“Cassie, please – “

 

A crazy thought popped into Ryan’s mind, and in a split second, she decided to go with it.  “I’m Elsa!”

 

Both father and daughter froze in place, giving her identical _what-the-hell?_ looks.  “I’m like Elsa,” Ryan said again, kneeling down to Cassie’s eye level.  Cassie narrowed her eyes even further.  “You’ve seen Frozen, right?  You were just going to watch it again?”

 

She nodded once, and Ryan smiled.  “Well, Elsa was born with powers, right?  And sometimes they got her into trouble, even when she didn’t try to do anything wrong.  She had to run away because people were scared of her.  But then Anna and – and the reindeer guy – “

 

“ _Kristoff_ ,” Cassie said, like she was saying _duh, stupid._

 

“Kristoff,” Ryan amended, “he and Anna found her and helped her, and then everything was okay.  So, right now, you and your dad are Anna and Kristoff for me!”

 

Cassie liked that, it seemed.  Her eyes lit up with excitement, but she quickly scrunched her nose, trying to hide it.  “People don’t just _have_ superpowers,” she insisted, hands going back to her hips, “Daddy has his shrink-suit, and Iron Man has his armor, and the Hulk was a science ‘speriment, and Captain America and the Winter Soldier got super serum in World War II!”

 

Ryan let out a chuckle before she could stop herself, and Cassie glared at her.  “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you – you just know a lot about my family, and you’re almost totally right.”

 

“Your family?” Cassie said in surprise.  “They’re not a family, they’re the Avengers!  I learned about them in school.”

 

“Well, we like to think of ourselves as both a team and a family,” Ryan said with a shrug.  “And you’re right about everyone, except me.  But that’s okay, I doubt you learned about me in school.  I’m the only one like me we know about.”

 

“Prove it!” Cassie demanded.  “If you really have superpowers.” 

 

Ryan looked up at Scott then, who nodded quickly.  “You can just do little stuff, right?” he said out of the corner of his mouth, and Ryan smiled reassuringly.

 

“Do you have a bottle of water I could borrow?” she asked, and he reappeared with a Nalgene bottle a moment later.

 

“Perfect, thank you.”  Cassie watched her dubiously as she unscrewed the top by hand, an odd mix of excitement and fear making her heart thud.  She’d never shown off her powers for a stranger before.  If Cassie liked Elsa, though, Ryan would definitely win her with this.

 

She took a deep breath, then met Cassie’s eyes and raised one hand.  “Ready for the magic?” she breathed, fluttering her fingers. 

 

Cassie nodded, and Ryan grinned wide.  Then, she let it go, floating the bottle in midair as her hands glowed a dim blue. 

 

Cassie gasped, little eyes blowing wide.  “Watch this,” Ryan said softly, and the water streamed out in a whirl around them both.  Cassie’s mouth dropped open, and she reached out like she was in a trance.  The water swirled around her hand, weaving between her fingers before Ryan cradled it all into a perfect sphere, floating between them.  Then, solely for dramatic effect, she leaned forward and blew.

 

A swirling trail of snow burst into life, and Cassie started shrieking in delight as it danced around her.  “Snow!  It’s snowing, it’s snowing, holy shit!”

 

Ryan clapped a hand over her mouth, almost wheezing with laughter as Scott made a horrified sound.  “Cassie!  What did I just say about swearing – “

 

“ _Lucy, I’m ho-ome!”_

 

Ryan’s heart stopped dead, and the world with it.  In slow motion, she saw the water bottle clatter to the ground, the sound muffled to her ears.  That voice – she knew that voice, he used to say that all the time –

 

Time zoomed forward again, and she launched to her feet, shoving Scott aside.  “ _Papá!_ ” she screamed, scrambling into the kitchen, “ _papá, soy yo – !”_

 

“ _Qué?”_ the voice exclaimed, and Ryan stopped short.  In the doorway, a man stared at her in confusion.  A man with her dad’s tan skin, bright brown eyes, and strong, square jaw. 

 

A man who was definitely not her dead father.

 

“ _Señorita?  Todo está bien?”_

 

Ryan clapped her hands to her mouth.  She sank into a chair at the table, a few tears spilling down her cheeks. 

 

A warm hand gripped her shoulder, and she almost broke completely.  “ _Por favor, no llores señorita, no llores_ – Scott, what the hell, bro – “

 

“ _Está bien_ ,” Ryan choked out, quickly wiping her face dry. “ _Está bien, solo – suenas como mi papá. [It’s fine, I’m fine, just – you sound just like my dad_ ].”

 

“O-oh,” the man said, still sounding confused.  He patted her on the shoulder again, but Ryan brushed him off.  She stood back up, exhaling slowly.  The man looked just short of terrified, and she tried to smile at him.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she offered, sniffing once at the end.  “I just – didn’t expect that, and I’ve had a crazy past few days, and… god, you even look kinda similar.  He had the same chin.”

 

“Oh,” the man said again, discomfort morphing into sympathy on his face. “Uh – I’m sorry for your loss, miss, that really… uh.  Sucks?”

 

Ryan laughed wetly.  “Thank you.  It was a long time ago, just – a little nearer sometimes.  Anyway,” she added, glancing over at Scott, “um, you must be Luis?  Hope and Scott said you’re good friends.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, nice to meet you.” Luis stuck out his hand.  “Luis Guerra, at your service, _encantada_ , and all that, miss…?”

 

“Ryan,” she said faintly.  If she’d felt in shock when he first spoke, it was nothing compared to now.  What were the odds that all could be a coincidence?  “Ryan Guerra.”

 

 

* * *   * * *    * * *

 

 

Scott ping-ponged between them both as they stared at each other in shock.  What kind of _Parent Trap_ thing was going on, anyway?  “Guerra?” he said, and Ryan blinked, looking back to him.  “I thought your last name was Green.”

 

She swallowed heavily, shaking her head.  “Not originally, he changed it.  When he came here.  He – he wanted to be American, get away from his parents ‘cause they hated him – ”

 

“Oh my god,” Luis interrupted, eyes blown wide, “no freaking way – my dad, he had a older brother who ran away to America ‘cause _mi abuelita_ was such an old bitch, she hated him ‘cause he was – “

 

“Unpresented,” they said together. 

 

Ryan clapped her hands to her mouth again, as Luis put his on his head, blowing out a breath.  “His name,” he exclaimed, “was it – “

 

“Alejandro Ramón Guerra,” she said, and Luis shrieked with excitement, jumping up and down like a little kid.

 

“No way!  No freaking way, this is the coolest shit ever – what are the odds, dude, what the hell - _mi_ _Tía_ María and Dad tried to find _Tío_ Ale for years, they never could, and he had a kid, too?  What the hell – “

 

“Daddy?” Cassie said, grabbing Scott’s hand with a frown on her face.  “What’s going on?”

 

“Well,” Scott said, then shrugged.  “It looks like Ryan and Luis are cousins.”

 

“Whoa!” Cassie yelled, running over to Luis and grabbing his arm.  “Luis!  You’re cousins with a superhero!”

 

“Wait wait wait, what?”  Luis stopped short, pinning Ryan with a look of wonder.  “You’re a – no, what?  No way, how – dude, are you like a supergenius like Stark or something, or – “

 

“Not exactly,” Ryan croaked, her voice gone hoarse.  “Um.  Have you seen the news lately?”

 

“Nah, girl, I stopped watching any of that bullshit since Trump got nominated, that _pendejo_ ‘s all they talk about anyway – “

 

Scott decided then it was high time to step in, before Kurt and Dave got here and decided they were adopted half-siblings or something.  Not to mention Ryan needed an escape plan, like, yesterday.  “We can go over all that later,” he said, inserting himself between them.  “Look, this is crazy, and really exciting, but – “

 

“Wait,” Luis interrupted again, his face falling this time.  He sat down at the table then, Ryan mirroring him, and Scott gave up for the moment.  “So _Tío_ Ale’s dead?  How?  When?”

 

“Years ago.  In the Towers,” Ryan whispered.  “He was a firefighter, almost a captain.  Actually, there’s a memorial for him and Mom – she worked there.  She was unpresented, too.”

 

Luis blew out another breath, shaking his head.  “ _Carajo_ , you lost them both then?  What happened to you, where’ve you been all this time?  Why didn’t you try to find any of us?”

 

“ _Abuelita_ ,” Ryan spat, and Luis actually went pale.  He shoved out of his chair and spewed out an impressive bunch of Spanish curses – well, Scott thought they were curses, but he’d never heard half of them before. 

 

“That old bitch,” he finished in English.  “What did she do?  Did you even know you still had family?”

 

Ryan shook her head, and he cursed one more time.  Then he furrowed his brows, leaning in towards her a little.  “You’re an Omega like me, though, she wouldn’t hate you so bad – and how are you even – ?”

 

With a very heavy sigh, Ryan shook her head.  She had a young face, but right then, she looked older than Scott had ever seen her.  “It’s a really, really long story.”

 

Thankfully, Luis seemed to get it, and just nodded back.  Scott stood up again, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.  “Look, Luis and I are gonna get started now, okay?  And, it’s probably better if you don’t know what we’re doing, deniability and whatever.  Are you tired, hungry, do you want to - ?”

 

“Could I clean your kitchen?” Ryan said quickly, and Scott was taken aback.  “Sorry,” she added, “normally it doesn’t bother me, but I’m tired, and wired, and I think I just need to do something, and it’s…”

 

Suddenly, Luis leaned in close, very deliberately sniffing at Ryan.  She recoiled back a little, and he jumped up from the table then, hurrying through the living room and disappearing.  Scott heard him go into the bathroom, rifling through the cabinets.  “ _Cuánto tiempo que tomaste la pastilla?_ ” he shouted back, and Ryan went deathly pale. 

 

“ _Mierda_ – two days ago, or something!”  Ryan clutched her hands to her head.  “No, no – “

 

“ _Aquí, aquí_ ,” Luis said, and carefully placed a small, white pill in her hand.  She swallowed it dry before Scott could so much as grab a glass.  “If you’re anything like me, it’s too late, but it’ll make it shorter, hopefully – “

 

“No, you don’t understand, I _can’t have one_!”  Ryan started pacing across the kitchen, actually wringing her hands.  “I forgot, I can’t believe it, I’m so stupid - !”

 

“Hey!” Scott exclaimed, stepping in her path to make her stop.  “Calm down, okay?  You can’t have what, what’s going on?”

 

“The last time I went into heat,” Ryan muttered, low and desperate, “I accidentally set off The Hulk.”

 

Oh, boy.  They might be in trouble.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

A few hours later, Ryan woke from her doze as Timon and Pumbaa started singing their worries away.  Cassie was fast asleep next to her, having not left her side since they’d decided to put the pause on life-changing revelations for the afternoon.  They’d ordered more pizza for an early dinner, and watching Disney movies in a fort and watching Cassie for Scott was a good enough distraction afterwards.

 

She quickly took stock of herself, and she didn’t feel like she remembered before the last heat she went into.  Achy, feverish, and overall crummy weren’t there, at least.  She did remember scrubbing her then-bedroom within an inch of its life, and burrowing under all the blankets she had, though.  Considering right now she never wanted to come out of this fort, her heat was still coming.

 

God, how could she have been so stupid?  Her last heat had almost killed her and sent the Tower into lockdown!  She’d been on her pills religiously since December last year.  She’d gone without eating a few times to be able to pay for them, before Steve and Bucky had found out. 

 

Well, it was coming now.  Just had to grit her teeth and get through it.

 

Cassie shifted against her, and Ryan gently laid a hand on her head, stroking her hair.  With any luck, Cassie would grow up to be an smart, happy, normal Alpha, and never have to deal with any of this nonsense.

 

Still.  The poor girl might be sucked in already, considering her dad was a superhero, too.  Anyone Ryan knew, their normal lives had ended the minute the idea of unnatural abilities popped up.  Thor got banished to New Mexico - of all places - and Darcy and Jane were screwed.  Nat and Clint joined up with SHIELD, and they were screwed.  Steve just wanted to enlist seventy-five years ago, and he and Bucky had been screwed.

 

And the way Cassie had looked when Ryan made it snow?  Yeah.  She had the bug.  Some kids saw their police officer parents and wanted to be captains, and Cassie got to see superheroes.  How was Ryan supposed to explain to her that no, having superpowers was dangerous, horrible, they would ruin your life? 

 

Jeez, Ryan, she thought.  Stomp on the dreams of an eight-year-old, why don’t you.

 

Alright.  It was about time she started being useful, anyway.  “C’mon, Cassie,” she whispered, carefully hoisting her into her arms.  Cassie blinked blearily, scrunching her nose again, and Ryan kissed her forehead before she could stop herself.  “It’s late, sweetie.  Time for bed.”

 

Cassie buried her face in her neck in response.  “You smell good,” she mumbled, and Ryan chuckled, crawling them both out of the fort.  Ironic.  Smelling good was pretty much what started everything. 

 

She got them to the kitchen, where Scott, Luis, a Black man named Dave and a man with a strong Eastern European accent named Kurt were gathered at the table.  They’d been briefly introduced earlier, but no one besides Scott seemed to know who she actually was, and only Luis had been told she had superpowers.  Maybe she wasn’t in as much danger as she’d thought, Ryan mused.  Convenient.

 

They had told Dave and Kurt that Ryan was Luis’s cousin, though, and that seemed a good enough explanation as to why they were making up a brand-new life for her and two mates somewhere far away.  Since then, Kurt had been clacking away at a laptop, the others speaking in low tones and occasionally disappearing for an hour or two at a time.

 

In theory, it should bother her that she had accidentally turned to a small criminal syndicate for help.  In reality, she was just glad they seemed both nice and competent.

 

“Scott?” Ryan said, and they all turned to her.  “Cassie’s tired, should we – “

 

“Oh, jeez,” Scott said, checking his watch.  “It’s almost midnight, sorry, peanut.”  He scooped her up from Ryan’s arms, kissing her on the cheek.  “Say goodnight.”

 

“Night, Luis.  Night, Davey.  Night, Kurt.  Night, Ryan,” Cassie mumbled, and Ryan’s heart melted when all the guys dutifully lined up to kiss her goodnight, too.  When Scott left, Ryan took his seat, starting to read through the notes and papers they’d left everywhere.

 

“We were thinking eastern Europe, for time being,” Kurt said, still focused on his computer screen.  Bucky had been right on the money, Ryan thought with a smile, if the professionals agreed with him.  “Romania is cheap, no wars.  You’re very pale, you fit in.”

 

“When are your mates getting here?” Dave asked, and Ryan shrugged.

 

“Soon as possible, but I don’t know when, exactly.  Is that a problem?”

 

“Nah, we can do airline vouchers instead.  We’ve got a few hours to go, anyway.”

 

“Ryan?  _Puedo hablar contigo un momento?_ ” Luis suddenly said, and Ryan nodded.  To her surprise, he led her back into the pillow fort, holding the blanket up for her to crawl under first.

 

“ _Me gustan espacios peque_ _ñ_ _os cuando estoy precalentamiento también [I like cozier spaces when I’m in pre-heat, too,]”_ he murmured, and Ryan was touched.  “You feeling okay?”

 

She nodded again, giving him a small smile.  A few old instincts were muttering in their corner, grumbling about trusting someone she just met with the real her, but she was resolutely ignoring them.  She’d never had a real cousin before, but she had Clint, and Sam, and Bruce and Tony; she at least had some practice with a family.  “I’m good for now.  Just want it over with.”

 

Luis gave her an amused look.  “ _Con tus esposos?  No será tan malo_. _[With your mates?  Won’t be so bad.]”_

 

“ _No tenemos tiempo por nada [We don’t have time]_ ,” Ryan countered, cheeks flushing red.

 

“ _Quizás no_ [Maybe not],” Luis conceded.  “ _Quería preguntarte algo.  Si puedo. [I wanted to ask you something, though.  If that’s chill].”_

 

“ _Por supesto [Of course]_.”

 

His eyes lit up, a childlike grin pulling at his lips.  “ _Tus poderes, son desde nacimiento?  Como los cómicos?  Cúales son?  Fuerza, velocidad, vuela – ? [Your powers, you were born with them?  Like in comic books?  What are they?  Strength, speed, flight - ?]”_

 

“Luis!” Ryan half-whispered, half-laughed.  “ _Cálmate.  Puedo mostrarte, si quieres. [Calm down.  I can show you, if you want.]_ ”  He nodded with the excitement of a dog wagging its tail, and she grinned.  “ _Piensa en un número.  Cualquier.  [Think of a number, any number.]_ ”

 

Luis scoffed then, rolling his eyes.  _“Está bien, no me digas – [Fine, don’t tell me - ]_ ”

 

“ _No, en serio. [No, seriously.]_ ”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she nodded at him.  “Okay, ready.”

 

Ryan snorted.  “ _No es un número [That’s not a number]_ ,” she said, giving him a flat look.  “That’s Jennifer Lopez’s ass.”

 

Pure shock rushed through his mind before reaching his face.  Then, to her amazement, not a hint of fear followed.  Only a wave of excited wonder.  “Wait wait wait, did you really just – _De que pienso ahora?! [What am I thinking now?!]”_

 

“Selena Quintanilla’s ass,” Ryan answered dutifully, laughing at him.  “And Eva Longoria’s ass.  And – oh, _gross_ , Luis, Selena Gomez is, like, twenty!”

 

“She’s twenty-four!” Luis insisted, then shook his head in wonder.  _Wait, puedas oírme ahora mismo? [Wait, can you hear me right now?]_

 

Ryan nodded, then retreated out of his head.  “Not anymore, I stopped.”

 

He blinked, then said, “Your eyes, were they…?”

 

“Yeah.  That happens sometimes.  _Las manos también, cuando muevo algo. [My hands too, when I move things]_.” 

 

“ _Move_ – move things?“  Luis dropped his voice from its half-shout, glancing back towards the kitchen.  “Like, telekinesis and shit?  Moving shit without touching it, like that chick from _Stranger Things_ , or _Carrie_ , or something?”

 

Ryan frowned a little.  “Well, minus the psychopathic aspects of the characters.  But, yeah, basically.”

 

“Oh, jeez – I’m sorry,” Luis said quickly.  He shifted to lay a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.  “That was dumb.”

 

“I’ve had worse things assumed about me,” Ryan murmured.  “And… there’s something else I can do, too.  But I can’t show you.  And I probably shouldn’t even tell you.”

 

Concern wrinkled his eyes as he frowned.  “Is it bad?”

 

Ryan just nodded, closing her eyes.  “And, just – I wasn’t expecting any of this.  I mean, it’s really fucking crazy – how are you even this calm?”

 

“ _Manita_ , you have no idea what crazy looks like yet.  Not ‘til you’ve seen _mi mamá_ and _Tía_ Rosita get hammered and steal a Corvette in broad daylight from an impound lot.  Some _Dukes of Hazzard_ shit, but it was _Mamá_ , you know?  Messed me up.”

 

Ryan chuckled, trying to ignore the quiet ache in her heart.  A whole family that wouldn't hate her, and she never even knew.  “How big is the family, anyway?”

 

Luis launched into a detailed history, starting with their shared grandparents.  Apparently, her dad’s parents had six kids total, and her dad had been in the middle.  Two older brothers, a younger brother, and two younger sisters, and Luis’s dad Manuel was the youngest boy.  Apparently they'd all learned English together when they were kids in Mexico from American TV - "The I Love Lucy quote," Ryan realized, and Luis nodded and laughed - and eventually, Manuel had made his way to America, too.  He'd only been fifteen when her dad had run away, though, and it had almost broken the family in half.

 

“My dad and his brothers don’t get along so great still,” Luis said.  They were lying on their backs, whispering to the blanket ceiling.  “ _Abuelita_ made them hate Ale, _Papá_ said, ‘cause he was – y’know.  _Abuelo_ didn’t give a fuck, he just worked and drank and shit.  But Papá and his sisters really missed him when he was gone.”

 

“I only ever met her once,” Ryan whispered back.  “Just after.  She and _Abuelo_ came up, sold everything left, and put me in foster care.  They knew my mom was unpresented, so…”

 

Luis swore under his breath.  “They never told anyone.  Not even when we were looking for him.”  He turned on his side, face half-lit by the blue light of the TV.  “And you somehow had superpowers the whole time, and you kept it secret.  Shit, everyone’s gonna freak out, they don’t even know I know Ant-Man or Falcon or anything.”

 

“Oh, you’ve met Sam?”

 

“Yeah, I just talked to the guy once.  He was trying to get in touch with Scott late last year, I got the phone.”

 

Ryan exhaled in a puff, dropping her eyes.  The surprises just wouldn’t end today.  “Well.  You kinda saved my life, then.”  At his questioning look, she told him the story, up until she reunited with the Avengers, just those few months ago.

 

He was silent for a solid minute after she’d finished.  Then, wordlessly, he pulled her into a hug.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

Six A.M., and Ryan couldn't sleep any more.  Somewhere in the night, she'd hit the feeling-generally-icky stage of pre-heat, and she knew it wasn't far off.  But for now, she was safe.  Steve and Bucky would be there soon.  It was about time she stopped running, then.  Time to make Pamela proud.

 

She grabbed Kurt's laptop, tiptoed past his and Dave's sleeping forms slumped on the table, and typed her name into the searchbar.  

 

The first headline read _'Death Count now 268 in Edwin Hotel disaster; suspect Ryan Green still on the run.'_       

 

She gritted her teeth, and kept going.  

 

Two hours later, Luis came out of the bathroom and spotted her.  "Hey," he said, tone concerned, " _qué pasó_?"

 

She passed him the laptop in answer.  "It's a hell of a lot worse than I thought," she whispered hoarsely, dropping her head in her hands.    

 

Luis whistled low.  "Damn, girl," he muttered.  "You can hold up an entire hotel?!"

 

Ryan blinked.  "That's not really the point, Luis - "

 

"What're you talking about, that's the absolute sickest shit I've ever seen!"  Ryan looked up at him, and he shook his head, grinning wide.  "Forgot Scott, the Avengers - you're the most badass superhero ever, like for real!"

 

Was he serious?  "Are you serious?" she hissed, jumping to her feet.  "I killed _so many people_ , Luis!  They're - I trapped them, they fucking burned alive!  I - I can't do this, I have to - "

 

She made to push past him, but he stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a confused look on his face.  " _Manita_ ," he whispered, "you _saved_ everyone." 

 

"Are you fucking serious?"  She jabbed a finger at the laptop, voice getting louder and louder.  "I was too late!  All those people, they had no fucking chance, I - I held the explosion right on top of them!  Jesus Christ, I murdered a _king!_ "

 

"Ryan!"  Luis grabbed her by the shoulders, eyes wide.  "Jesus, shut up!  You want the whole building to hear you?"

 

"Guys!"  Scott skidded to a stop, hair a wild mess and wearing only a T-shirt and boxers.  "The hell's going on?"

 

"I'm turning myself in," Ryan declared.

 

In the shocked silence, a groan came from the table.  "Then why the hell I stay up all night, making new identity, huh?" Kurt's voice grumbled, and Luis whirled around.

 

" _Cállate, pendejo_ ," he spat, then turned back around.  "No one's turning themselves in!"

 

_Crash!_

 

Ryan yelped in alarm as the front door smashed inward.  Immediately, Luis grabbed her arms, shoving her behind him as she poked her head around to see.  Then, she nearly crumpled to the floor in relief, Luis's grip the only thing keeping her upright.

 

"You're damn right, they're not," Bucky growled.  His gun was pointed right between Luis's eyes, metal finger resting on the trigger.  "Now, let my mate go."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had NO clue the story was taking this exact route, but it feels right, you know? Fanfic is supposed to be self-indulgent. Also, I'm going off of a few years of high school Spanish and some Google Translate, so let me know if anything's horribly wrong!
> 
> Lots of love to everyone reading this flaming trash heap <3


	6. In Which Cassie Nearly Kills Bucky, But It's Okay Because She's Cute

 

For an instant, no one moved.  Then, Ryan sighed.  “Jesus, Bucky, I’m fine - it’s Scott and his friends, we know him!”

 

“Yeah, you know me!” Scott parroted, his hands high in the air.  “Last December, party at the psychopath’s house?  A-And I beat Falcon that one time?”

 

Bucky snorted, holding the gun steady.  “Nothing worth bragging about, Lang.  And I was talking to him.”  He stood laser-focused on Luis, who, to his credit, held his ground with only a slight tremble in his knees.  “Do I really have to repeat myself?”

 

“Look, dude – uh, boss, sir,” Luis said, “I don’t want no trouble, know what I’m saying?  And if it was literally anyone else here behind me, I would totally back off – “

 

Kurt, Dave and Scott made identical insulted noises, but Luis ignored them.

 

“ – except for maybe Scott cause I love the man, dude’s a brother, know what I’m saying?  And it was really cool how you burst through the door like that, super dramatic and shit, but I – I’m not gonna move, ‘cause Ryan’s apparently a little suicidal at the moment, and like, no judgement ‘cause we all go through shit, but I literally just met her yesterday and she’s easily one of my favorite people already and I don’t want her to do nothing we’ll all regret.”

 

He said it all in a span of maybe two breaths, carefully nudging Ryan back towards the living room.  “And like, there’s a kid here too, her name’s Cassie and she’s the cutest fucking thing in the world, so let’s just all calm down here and like, talk it out, Oprah-style, or maybe like Dr. Phil if that’s your jam or something, a’ight?  I know you’re, like, an Avenger and so you’re chill with Ryan, and her mates are gonna be here any minute and everything, so maybe, like, _help me out here, girl?_ ” he finished in a hiss.

 

Before Ryan could say anything to fix _the_ _huge misunderstanding going on, oh my God_ , a cry came from the living room.  “Get him, Ant-thea!” 

 

Red light flashed, followed by an odd skittering noise.  An ant the size of a German shepherd raced around the corner, chittering and clicking and scratching against the floor with long, spindly legs and glaring with humongous, glittering eyes.   

 

Sheer instinct took over.  Ryan screamed bloody murder, shoving the monstrous thing back with glowing hands.  It toppled into the pillow fort, legs and antennae waving wildly.  Ryan bolted so fast Bucky’s free hand missed her, utter panic shooting her to the door. 

 

Naturally, she forgot Bucky had smashed it in.  Her foot caught on the edge and she toppled forward, throwing her hands out to catch herself –

 

A pair of arms caught her instead, yanking her against a rock-solid chest.  Behind her, shouts and yells and that horrible clickity-clackety of too many tiny feet sent her reeling.  Her whole body screamed “ _get off the floor it’s getting closer get off the floor GET OFF THE FLOOR,”_ and she found herself scrambling up instead of out, making the man grunt and puff as she muscled herself off the ground, clinging to his shoulders and back.

 

From her new height, she found herself overlooking the kitchen descended into chaos.  Kurt and Dave were screaming on the table like a housewife who saw a mouse, Luis was somehow on top of the fridge, and Bucky was on the floor, gun forgotten as he wrestled back the ant chomping at his arm, metal screeching like a banshee.  Cassie stood in the doorway to the living room, jumping and cheering the ant on, and Scott was nowhere to be seen.

 

Bucky threw the ant back with a grunt, scrambling to his feet, but the ant was too quick, bowling him over again.  He shoved at its face to keep it from biting at his neck, somehow managing to look pissed off and completely confused all at once.

 

It occurred to Ryan, through her panic-addled brain, that she should probably be helping her mate instead of just watching a giant ant try to eat him, and she had just raised a hand when Scott barreled back into the kitchen. 

 

“Ant-thea, down!” he yelled, and amazingly, the ant backed off immediately, sitting at his feet like a perfectly trained dog.  He pressed what looked like a silver-blue CD into Ant-thea’s head, and suddenly, she disappeared.  Scott knelt down, holding out a hand, and a normal-sized, not-at-all-feral ant crawled to rest on his palm. 

 

“Cassie,” he gasped, whirling around, “are you okay?” 

 

“I’m fine, Daddy!” Cassie exclaimed, looking altogether quite proud of herself and the only one who wasn’t halfway to having a heart attack.  “Ant-thea stopped the bad guys!”

 

Scott slumped against the wall, wiping his free hand over his face.  “Put her away, now,” he said, tipping the ant into Cassie’s outstretched hands.  “Then go to your room.  We need to have a talk.”

 

As Cassie skipped away, Kurt and Dave climbed down from the table, and Luis flopped down from the fridge, all three of them looking like they had no idea what to do next.  Bucky had climbed to his feet, inspecting his metal arm with a look of disgust.

 

“It drooled on me,” he said, sounding scandalized.  “What the fuck, Lang.”  He shook his arm out like a dog drying its fur, wiping his hand on his pants.  Then he inhaled sharply, head whipping around.  “Ryan?  Ry – “

 

“Up here,” Ryan’s climbing-post said amusedly, and with a rush of happiness, she realized it was Steve. 

 

“Steve!” she exclaimed, voice weak with relief.  She instinctively clung to him all the tighter, breathing in his scent as he reached a hand up to touch her face. 

 

“You okay, sweetheart?” he said, chuckling a little. 

 

“Uh, well, that was absolutely terrifying and I’m actually gonna have nightmares, but otherwise, yeah.”

 

She heard him chuckle, felt strong hands gently rearrange her so she was hugging him around his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist from the front.   

 

“ _Tá sé ceart go leor, tá tú ceart go leor [It’s okay, you’re okay,]_ ” Steve murmured, sounding like he was reassuring them both together.  Then, he took a sudden step back, saying, “Nope, no fucking way – “

 

“Are you _kidding_ me – “

 

Ryan peeled herself back from Steve’s perfect embrace to see Bucky glaring at them both.  “You _just_ said you’re covered in ant spit,” Steve exclaimed, holding Ryan protectively away, “that’s disgusting – “

 

Ryan pushed away from Steve and rushed over to him.  She grabbed him by the neck, tangled a hand in his hair, and pulled him down into a fierce kiss.  Bucky growled in his chest, flesh hand yanking her against him as she sighed into the kiss.

 

After a few seconds, she pulled back, breathing heavy.  “Thank you for stopping the ant,” she breathed, smoothing his hair back down where she’d mussed it.  “But Steve’s right, that’s nasty, please go wash up.”

 

“Mind letting me go?” he said, smiling crookedly as his eyes shone with happiness.  She stepped back, then lowered her blue-lit hand holding his metal arm safely away.  He dutifully went over to the sink, shooting a glare over at Scott as he went.  “Grab my gun, Steve, I’m considering shooting them for real now.”

 

“That’s not funny,” Ryan said, folding her arms as Steve clicked the cartridge free, holstering the gun.  “What were you thinking?  It’s Scott, he saved my life!”

 

“Excuse you, _we_ saved your life,” Bucky shot back, scrubbing soap up his arm, “he _helped_.  And it was you that saved everyone in the end anyway, so what’s it matter?”

 

“Because I feel like I shouldn’t have to tell you that breaking down a friend’s door and threatening their friends with guns is bad, babe!”

 

“The door was locked,” Bucky said, like that was perfect justification for breaking it down.  “And I heard something about turning you in, and then the babbling lunatic was grabbing you – “

 

“Hey!” Luis exclaimed as Ryan said, “Because you burst through the door!”

 

“Because it was locked!”

 

“Alright!” Steve inserted, stepping into the middle of the kitchen.  “We can hash it all out later.  Scott,” he said, turning to the other four, who had been watching the exchange in utter disbelief.  “Sorry about the door, we’ll fix it.  And the guns.  It was a misunderstanding.”  He turned to Luis then, holding out a hand.  “Steve Rogers.  The lunatic with the gun is my mate, Bucky Barnes.”

 

“Hey!” Bucky exclaimed as they shook hands, Luis seemingly struck dumb.  He peered around Steve to look at Ryan, who rubbed a hand on the back of her neck and shrugged.

 

“Surprise,” she joked weakly.  “So, these are my mates.  Steve, Bucky, that’s Kurt and Dave – “ they waved awkwardly – “and this is Luis.”

 

“You’re Captain America!” Luis suddenly shouted.  “You’re – and you’re – Ryan, _estás seria?  Por qué no me dices_ – _?! [Are you serious?  Why didn’t you tell me - ]“_

 

“ _Porque no había llegado tan lejos todavía? [Because I hadn’t gotten that far yet?]”_ Ryan offered.  The news stories she’d shown Luis had all been about the victims, and she hadn’t realized she’d never mentioned Steve and Bucky were the mates she’d talked about.  Everyone else who’d known her already knew.  And to be fair, she thought, they’d only been mated for three days, and she’d had other things to worry about.  “It’s all a long story – ”

 

“ _Tienen, como, ciento a_ _ñ_ _os, [They’re, like, a hundred years old,]_ ” Luis interrupted, giving her a look.  “ _No es raro? [Isn’t that weird?]_ ”

 

“ _Noventa y ocho [Ninety-eight],_ ” Steve said mildly, and Luis startled a little.  “ _Por qué te lo estaba contando todavía [Why was she telling you, anyway]?_ ” he added, turning to Ryan with a concerned look.

 

“Because,” Ryan breathed, suddenly nervous.  “He’s… my cousin.”

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

A few hours later, the door was fixed, the kitchen put back together, and Kurt and Dave had left, saying something about day drinking and forgetting how fucking weird their lives were for a while.  Ryan almost wished she could join them.  But, having Steve and Bucky back was more than good enough, even if they would barely let her out of their reach - much less their sight - as everyone caught everyone up.

 

“Oh, thank God,” Ryan breathed, relaxing back against Bucky’s chest.  “I was so worried about her.”

 

“She’d be a little offended if she heard you say that,” Steve noted with a chuckle.  “But Clint broke her out so easily, I don’t think they care.  It’s not Nat they’re after.”

 

Ryan sighed.  With their arrival, all the guilt had been shoved aside, no room left beside the sheer relief and joy.  The high was wearing off, though, and it was time to deal with the fallout.  “I wasn’t kidding, earlier,” she said, and Luis and Scott looked up in surprise.  “I think it’s best if I – “

 

“No.”  Bucky’s arms tightened around her a little, like he could squeeze the idea right out of her like toothpaste.  “Not even discussing it.”

 

“Bucky – “

 

“Was anything they made me do my fault?” he said sharply, and Ryan turned to glare at him.

 

“That’s not the same – “

 

“Isn’t it?” Steve said, and she glared at him, too.  “You didn’t set those bombs.”

 

“Someone with my face did, apparently, and – !“

 

“And if you turn yourself in, the wrong person suffers the consequences!”  Steve cupped her face with a hand, eyes burning bright.  “Ryan.  Someone framed you and tried to kill all of us.  Don’t let them get away with it.”

 

“I killed a _king_ ,” Ryan whispered back.  “How am I supposed to just – all those people – “

 

“Everyone would be dead if it wasn’t for you, before and now,” Luis said suddenly.  “Scott would be,” he added, and he and Scott just looked at each other for a moment.  “I know I’m still new to the superhero biz, _manita_ , but you can’t save everyone.  The important thing is, you tried to.”

 

Everyone was quiet for a moment after.  Then, a little voice said, “Daddy?”

 

“Yes, peanut?” Scott sighed, and held out his hand for her.  She padded out of her bedroom, staring at her feet as she took it.  She and Scott had had loud, one-sided discussion about using the shrink discs and what to do when she saw guns or people in danger, and she hadn’t been out of her room since.  “Did you want to say something?”

 

Cassie nodded, then lifted red-rimmed eyes to Bucky.  “I’m sorry I made Ant-thea big and told her to attack you.  That was dangerous, and I won’t do it again.”

 

Bucky shifted Ryan to the side, Steve’s arm automatically reaching around her as Bucky got up from the couch.  He knelt down in front of Cassie, her eyes wide and nervous. 

 

“Don’t be,” Bucky murmured, and her eyebrows flew up in surprise.  “It was dangerous, and you’re too little to do dangerous things yet.  But it was also brave, and good instinct, too.  If someone’s bothering you and you can’t run away and hide, you should make a diversion.  You wanna know how you should do it?”

 

“I’m not sure – “ Scott began, but Bucky silenced him with a hand.

 

“You throw the biggest temper tantrum of your life,” he said, just holding back a smile.  “You cry, and yell, and stomp your feet, and be loud and rude and obnoxious.  You’re very pretty, and people freak out when pretty people cry, so the bad guys will have no idea what to do.”

 

Cassie’s face had gone from nervous to thrilled as Bucky spoke, and she grinned ear-to-ear when he finished.  “Thanks, Mr. Bucky!” she cried, and threw her little arms around his neck in a hug.  Bucky froze, then held her tight, metal arm wound around her back and flesh hand pressed to her hair.  

 

Ryan heard Steve puff out a breath beside her, his arm tightening around her unconsciously.  She laid back against his side, and closed her eyes for moment.

 

Then, a sharp cramp spiked in her gut, and she clutched at her stomach.  Steve’s hand flew to the back of her neck, stroking gently, and she practically swallowed her tongue to keep silent as the pain turned to something much preferable. 

 

“Dammit,” she muttered, slumping into his embrace.  “I think you guys are making it come faster.”

 

“Yeah, that’s a thing,” Luis chimed in, and she groaned.  “Could hit anytime now.”

 

“Dammit, we should’ve left already – we should go, now – “

 

“Can’t,” Steve said, not-so-subtly scenting at her hair.  She pushed him away, widening her eyes in a _quit-it-we’re-not-alone_ face.  He raised a teasing eyebrow, like it was a dare, but settled for holding her a little closer.  “Soon as it hits, we’ll be useless ‘til it’s over, if your first one was any indication.  We should be someplace we know is secure.  We’ve got a motel room – ”

 

“I can do you one better,” Scott interrupted, pulling Cassie onto his lap as Bucky rejoined her and Steve on the couch.  “There’s an empty apartment down the hall, landlord’s saving it for his daughter.  We got the basics set up once Luis figured it out.  ”

 

Ryan was touched.  “You guys have done too much already – “

 

“Hey, you’re family,” Luis said, simple and easy as a smile.  “It’s what we do.”

 

It should have been heart-warming, and for a moment, it was.  But the monster ant had wrecked their pillow fort, and her mates’s arrival had popped her little, imaginary bubble of safety, where she could pretend a family was something she was meant to keep.

 

“Luis,” she murmured, sighing.  “Can we talk for a sec?”

 

“Um, I’ll show you guys your new IDs,” Scott said, and Ryan reluctantly shooed Steve and Bucky out into the kitchen again. 

 

When it was just her and Luis, she turned to him, the words sharp and hurting like broken glass on her tongue.  But before she could force them out, Luis half-smiled.

 

“ _Ya sé [I already know_ ],” he said.  “I don’t care.”

 

Ryan stared at him.  “Yeah, well, I do – I’ve gotten enough people I care about killed!”

 

He grimaced a little.  “Yeah, _manita_ , you gotta see a therapist or something, ‘cause if you really think it’s your fault _Tío_ Ale or your ma died, that’s messed up.  And I’m pretty sure all the Avengers are still alive.  So, your record’s perfect.”

 

Ryan made an indignant sound, finding herself on her feet.  “This isn’t a joke - !”

 

“Good, ‘cause it’d be a really shitty one!”  Luis got to his feet too, grabbing her by the shoulders.  “Do you really think this is all just some cosmic coincidence bullshit?  Me getting involved with Ant-Man, Ant-Man getting involved with the Avengers, the Avengers getting involved with you?  You finding your way here, of all places?  The place I happened to be?”

 

“What does that matter?” she said, voice cracking.  She shoved his arms off, stepping back.  “I don’t even look like you, Luis!  So the next family reunion, you guys can go to a nice hotel and not worry if it’s gonna explode!”

 

“ _Manita_ – “

 

“Don’t call me that!”  She swallowed once.  “I can’t be that.  I don’t get to have that.  And if it keeps you and all the other real Guerras safe, it’s more than worth it.  I’ll be fine.”

 

Luis threw his hands in the air.  “Do I get any say in this?  Or are you just gonna keep running away, pretending that’s best for everyone?”

 

The words slapped her like a wave of ice water.  “I – it’s to keep you safe,” she said, but Luis shook his head.

 

“I’m a thief, Ryan,” he said.  “I met Scott in our prison cell.  _Mi papá_ got deported while I was inside, and I couldn’t help him.  He didn’t do anything wrong, either.  But you know what?” 

 

He took a step closer, brown eyes burning like embers.  “He calls me every day, tells me he loves me.  I got siblings, other cousins, aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews and everything, and they all still love me.  And if you think for one damn second I’m gonna let you walk away from having that too – after everything you’ve told me – “

 

He cut off, shaking his head.  “I’m not saying come meet everyone right now, this instant.  But you’re not walking away from us for good.”

 

“I can’t,” Ryan whispered, exhaustion suddenly seeping into her bones.  She dropped back onto the couch, head in her hands.  “I can’t – if someone got hurt because of me – “

 

“You can’t control that,” Luis murmured back.  “You can’t live your life in a cage, Ryan.  Trust me, I know.”  He sighed then, pulling Ryan into a side-hug.  “If it really comes to all that… we’ll figure it out then.  But, as for me… I’ve already helped screw over HYDRA once, and HYDRA knows it.  My dad, everyone, they know I’m trouble to be around.  They don’t care.  They won’t care.”

 

Ryan sniffed once, and he squeezed her tight before letting go.  “Besides,” he added, smiling towards the doorway, “the Guerras get the Avengers as in-laws now.  That’s the dopest shit I’ve ever heard.”

 

In the doorway, Bucky rolled his eyes.  “You’re gonna annoy me as much as Sam, aren’t you.”

 

“Damn straight, cuz!”

 

“Boys,” Ryan muttered.  She missed Jane and Darcy.  Actually, that reminded her - “Hey, Buck?  Does anyone know what happened to Jane and Thor yet?”

 

“No, no word yet.”  He rolled his eyes again, adding, “If they’re off on some Asgardian bender, I’m gonna kill them.”

 

“They can’t be.  Jane doesn’t drink.”

 

“A sex-cation, then,” Bucky amended, and Ryan got up from the couch just to thwap him on the shoulder.  It only made him laugh, kissing her forehead.  “Speaking of, we’re going on ours in a few minutes.”

 

Ryan turned bright red, hitting him harder as Luis looked scandalized.  “Dude, that’s my cousin!”

 

“Quit peepin’, then, Tomás,” Bucky said before pulling Ryan into a proper kiss.  Firm, claiming, but so sweet she wanted to sing. 

 

“ _Is breá liom tú, ghrá mo chroí, [I love you, love of my heart]_ ,” he whispered against her lips.  He pecked her lips again, then added, “Also, I didn’t get to say earlier, but your boy haircut is really cute.”

 

“Oh, thank you!”  Ryan leaned back to smile up at him.  “I don’t know if I love it, but it’s so easy to wash now, guys have it made.”

 

Bucky glanced toward Luis again, who was pointedly looking at his phone, and grinned.  “You gotta get this binder off soon, though,” he whispered in her ear, “miss those hot little tits so bad – “

 

She shoved him with all her might this time, and he burst out laughing as he actually fell back into the wall.  He kept laughing as she stomped past him into the kitchen, where Steve and Scott were going over the papers and plans at the table.  “Steve, why did we mate with Bucky again?”

 

“’Cause his ass is almost as cute as yours,” Steve replied without looking up from the computer screen. 

 

Ryan made a sound that could only truly be called as a squeak, while Bucky kept laughing, coming in behind her.  “Can we stop talking about this in front of my cousin and our friends, please?!”

 

“Man, you guys have totally ruined the whole nostalgic Americana image for me,” Scott chimed in with a slight frown.  “I don’t know whether to be appalled or grateful.”

 

“Both is good,” Steve said, a smile tugging at his lips.  He closed the laptop then, gathering up the papers and stuffing them into a folder.  “These are perfect, Scott.  Thank you, for everything.  Get in touch with Pepper down the line, she can access our accounts to repay you.”

 

Scott nodded.  “Anything for you guys, seriously.  Oh, that reminds me!”  He dashed off to his bedroom, returning with a small cardboard box.  “I didn’t get a chance to wrap it, but, congrats on getting hitched, guys!”

 

“Oh, yeah, you mentioned a toaster!” Ryan said, pulling out a shiny silver appliance.  “You said you _made_ it, though?”

 

“I get bored during the Disney marathons, sometimes, and the best gifts are personalized,” Scott replied.  He pointed out a small dial on the side, in between the handles.  “It toasts Cap’s shield, Bucky’s star, or your initials onto the bread!  Sorry, I know yours is lame, but you don’t really have a famous thing besides the glowing hands, and I didn’t know how to make that into toast.  Also, I didn’t put in your middle name, because your initials spell out RAG, and then everybody would ask why your toast says that – ”

 

Ryan cut him off with a hug, trying to hold back her laughter.  “It’s a great gift, Scott.  Thank you so much.”

 

Scott squeezed her tight, pressing a paternal kiss to her hair.  “Stay safe, okay?  Next time I see you, I don’t want it to be on breaking news.”

 

God, he was just so nice.  Why couldn’t everyone be this nice?  “I’ll try my best,” she murmured back, pulling back to put the toaster back away.

 

Then, a dizzying wave of scorching heat rippled through her head to toe, and her knees buckled, toaster clattering to the floor.  Instantly, Steve’s arms swept her up, his spicy, dominating scent engulfing her as he pressed her nose to this throat.  Amazing, fuck, he smelled so fucking good –

 

“Steve,” she heard herself keen, breath heaving in her chest, “ _Steve_ – “

 

A hand gripped the back of her neck, and she muffled a scream in his throat.  Heat rushed between her legs, curling her toes and making her gasp.  Vaguely, she noticed them moving, but all she cared about was his arms around her.  God, he was so strong, holding her like it was nothing against those cut abs, that fucking gorgeous chest –

 

“Shh, sweetheart, shh,” Steve whispered, and she realized she was whining in her throat, body wriggling for friction in his grasp.  “We’re here, we’re gonna take care of you.  Make our best girl feel good, I swear.”

 

Yes, hell yes to all of the above, her heart and head screamed in unison.  She was laid on a firm mattress, and her eyes flew open when Steve’s warmth left her, bare and cold and so, so empty.  “St-Steve,” she gasped, “Bucky, please – “

 

“ _Take care of her_ ,” she heard Steve say, Alpha voice sending waves of heat through her.  “ _Five minutes.  I’ll be back_.”

 

Bucky was on top of her then, kissing her frantically.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, yanking him in closer.  He slipped a hand under her shirt, growling when he found the binder, and reached down for her jeans instead.  Instead of opening them, though, he cupped his hand over her, massaging gently and making her writhe with pleasure.

 

“So wet, sweetheart,” he said, almost teasingly, “that all for me?” 

 

Before she could answer, he eased the zipper down, flicking open the button.  She moaned breathlessly, head dropping to the pillow as he slipped a finger inside, then two, strokes gentle but insistent.  He was right, she was wet, her panties soaked and getting wetter as he fingered her.  His mouth returned to hers, tongue moving in time with his strokes before he pulled back.

 

“How’s that feel?” he whispered, and she nodded desperately.  It was perfect, he was perfect, just –

 

“More,” she gasped, “come on, come on, please – “

 

He crooked his fingers, brushing against a spot inside, and her words turned to a scream.  With a low growl, he surged forward, teeth latching onto her collarbone where he’d left his mark, and she tumbled over the edge, vision going white.

 

She came back to herself at the feeling of soft kisses, starting at her chin and fluttering up to her forehead and down the other side.  The scorching heat in her gut had subsided for the moment, leaving behind a pleasant warmth like sleepy sunshine, her eyelids too heavy to open.  She sighed, and Bucky pressed a kiss to her lips.

 

Then, to her surprise, she felt a tug in her mind, knocking at the door between them.  Concentrating a second, she felt a rush of relief followed by sheer contentment as she let him in.

 

_Missed this too_ , _sweetheart_ , he thought, body and mind settling over her like a blanket.  His subconscious undercurrent was silent, only his focused thoughts coming through, and she felt a little rush of pride.  He’d figured it out all on his own.  _Was like a piece of me went missing._

 

_I could barely breathe right,_ she sent back, the words so much easier than saying them aloud.  _I’m so sorry I ran away again._

 

_We caught up with you_ , he thought.  _Always will.  Now get some sleep before it comes back._

 

She took a deep breath, then sighed in frustration.  Where the hell was their mate?  She could already tell she wasn’t getting any rest without him there, too. 

 

_Alpha brain_ , Bucky said, amusement coloring the thought.  _Has to make sure the place is safe for us first_.  She felt his mind concentrate for a moment.  _He’s sweeping the living room for bugs._

 

With a groan, she buried her face in Bucky’s chest.  Apparently, heat hormones gave her the patience of a five-year-old.  _Tell him to hurry up._

 

_Don’t worry, sweetheart,_ Bucky thought, carefully wriggling her out of her soaked jeans before tangling their legs together.  _Won’t take much longer.  It’s his turn next._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lololol what is sex??? I tried, guys.
> 
> I know this was a bit filler, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!! <3
> 
> Also, this is the inspiration for Ryan climbing on top of Steve:  
> [Pidge climbs on top of Shiro](http://exomoon.tumblr.com/post/154603090382/this-scene-and-their-faces-its-so-good)


	7. In Which Ryan, Steve, and Bucky Are Together And Everything Is Okay (For About Five Minutes)

 

She awoke to a hand skimming up her thigh, warm breath on her neck.  Bucky was gone from her front, and Steve’s scent replaced him from behind.  The urgency from before reignited like a wildfire, and she scrambled around and crashed her lips to his. 

 

Steve groaned, slotting them together.  The firm, powerful line of his body made her dizzy with want, and she gasped into his mouth, rubbing against him like a cat.  It wasn’t enough, and heat gushed between her legs as she threw one around his waist, grinding their hips together.  Steve tightened his grip in response, tongue plundering her mouth until she had to break apart to breathe.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve said, breath heavy with want as she panted, eyes still shut tight.  A hand snaked between them as he spoke, teasing down her stomach.  “I want to – you liked it before, can I?”

 

She was too far gone to figure out what he was talking about, and she didn’t care.  “Yes, c’mon, _please_ – “

 

“Shh,” he whispered, and kissed her again.  “I’ve got you, _ghrá mo chroí_.”  Almost lazily, he slid her shirt over her head and undid the binder, and Ryan sighed with relief as it came off.  The dumb thing was tight as a corset, and she managed a few deep, sighing breaths as Steve kissed down her chest, mouthing at her breasts.  Her head swirled with his scent, heady and wanting, and she writhed under his touch.  “That’s it.  Breathe.”

 

“I’m fi – _oh_ – !”

 

A flick of his tongue, and she muffled a scream in the pillow.  He kissed the inside of her thigh, then continued like it was his mission to make her go to pieces just with his mouth.  Steve didn’t do anything - or anyone, her half-giddy brain supplied - halfway.

 

Then, she felt that familiar tug, and it actually took a few seconds to gather her thoughts and open them to Steve, the want burning under her skin scattering her few functioning brain cells.  _Hey, what’s wro – oh,_ fuck _\- !_

 

Steve growled, involuntarily rutting against the mattress.  He _wanted_ , and she could feel it now, everything, rushing in a flood between them.  Lust, hot and possessive, fiercely proud that he was the only one who could do this to her, him and his mate, and she was _theirs_ , theirs to love and protect and keep as long as she would let them -

 

_Forever_ , she thought, sending all she could back, Steve flicking his tongue again and making her gasp.  Only them, her Steve and Bucky, and tears welled as she tried to tell him how much she loved him.  It felt like her heart was bursting with it, emotions thrown into overdrive from the stress and worry and heat and how Steve fit perfectly between her legs.

 

He pushed a wave of sheer love back, and the intensity of it overwhelmed her.  He didn’t just love her, he –

 

There was a corner in everyone’s mind kept locked in the dark.  Everyone had one.  Being an actual mind-reader, she knew.  Could sense it past the surface and subconscious, all the way to where the light didn’t penetrate, like an ocean gone dark with depth.  She had never looked, never, in anyone.  She had no right.

 

Hers was where she shut away the gnawing, creeping, draining loneliness of a life lived completely alone.  Where she choked back the terror of when she would be discovered – she knew, she’d always known it would happen someday, the world could never be so kind – where she swallowed the soul-rending fury at the universe, the world, and Osama bin-fucking-Laden, in that order. 

 

And, wedged underneath and shoved behind, an unbelievably foolish flicker of hope, that someday, someday, _someday_ – there’d be someone like her, looking for someone like them, too.

 

Steve and Bucky always caught up.  Always came for her.  And right then, with Steve’s mind and body and heart embracing her, his pleasure becoming hers and looping endlessly, it finally hit her. 

 

She wasn’t alone anymore.

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

She’d lost some time, apparently, because she resurfaced to Steve clutching her to his chest and thumbing away her tears, the fire in her chest quenched for the time being again.  His own breath stuttered, and she was startled to see he was crying, too.

 

_Thank you,_ he thought, _thank you, thank you._

 

She huffed a laugh that turned into a sob, burying her face in his chest.  _For what?_

 

_For this. For everything, for – for letting me love you._

 

_For_ letting _you?_ Ryan hiccupped a laugh.  _I should be thanking you for even looking twice at me._

 

Steve leaned down to press his lips to hers.  _One of these days, I’m gonna figure out a way to show you how incredible you are._

 

The door to the apartment slammed.  Ryan jumped, but Steve sent calm through their bond, stroking the back of her neck.  _It’s just Bucky.  He stocked up on food, in case we’re here a while._

 

He came into view a moment later, shedding a baseball cap, gloves and shoes to stuff himself onto the mattress behind her, arms around them both.  She opened the bond to him too, and was met with a wave of embarrassed annoyance.  _One of you mind explaining why I just burst into tears in the canned soup aisle of a Safeway?_

 

_Ryan decided the perfect time for an existential awakening was while I was eating her out._

 

She couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing along with them, voices loud and echoing in the mostly-empty apartment.  _You know what, fine.  I’m going to be crazy hormonal for the next twenty-four hours and I’m taking you two down with me_.

 

_Please,_ Bucky thought over his snort of laughter.  _You ain’t seen hormonal ‘til Stevie goes into rut.  He turns into both an overprotective mama bear and insatiable sex addict, it’s confusing as shit._

 

Somehow, Steve sent the exact feeling of rolling his eyes over the bond, making Ryan giggle.  _Thankfully, my shots last longer than your pills, a ghrá.  We don’t have time for me in rut._

 

_How long do those normally last?_

 

_A week or so.  Used to be shorter, when Bucky could still imprint and go into pseudo-heat, but…_

 

A small note of shame, quickly stifled, came from Bucky’s end of the bond, and Ryan wiggled around in Steve’s grip to face him.  _What happened?_

 

_We tried, few months after I came back to Steve,_ he replied, shrugging nonchalantly.  _Steve went off his shots, went into rut, and… nothing.  We don’t know if it was the meds I was taking, or if I just… can’t, anymore.  Probably can’t, since I’m not in pseudo-rut right now for you._ He chuckled humorlessly.  _Enough electroshocks to the brain, a few screws come permanently loose._

 

Her heart sank, and she closed her eyes as she hugged him tighter.  _It’s okay.  I’ve got enough heat for the both of us, apparently._ Speaking of, the embers in her belly were starting to stir again, and she breathed Bucky’s scent in deep at his neck.  _You sure you’re not in pseudo-rut?  Cause you smell_ amazing _._

 

“Is your heat coming back?” Steve said aloud, and she nodded against Bucky’s neck.  “Can we try something to help?”  She nodded again, and he smiled.  "Say stop anytime, and you can come up whenever you want."

 

She nodded again, a little confused, then whined at the loss of warmth against her back.  “ _Patience_ ,” he whispered in her ear, Alpha voice zinging down her spine like electricity.  He was back in seconds, and she turned around to see him opening a box of protein bars.  Then, to her surprise and embarrassment and delight all at once, he lifted her effortlessly into his lap.

 

She wasn’t wearing anything now, and he wore only his boxers, his lips and cheeks still flushed red from his earlier activities.  Still, it felt almost too intimate for Steve to break off a piece of the protein bar and hold it to her lips. 

 

“ _Need to keep your strength up_ ,” he murmured, and she melted against him at his voice.  He ran his fingers through her hair, then down to the scar he’d left on her collarbone, encouragement whispering through the bond.  All the while, Bucky watched them from the other side of the bed, eyes fever-bright and gaze raptured.

 

Cheeks burning, but instincts singing with happiness, she opened her mouth.  Her lips brushed the tips of Steve’s fingers, each touch leaving trails of heat in its wake.  He fed her the entire protein bar piece by piece, then another, humming reassurance when she faltered and praise when she didn’t.  All the while, she felt herself go calm, calmer than she’d ever felt before.  Her heat was still flaring in her chest, but more like a campfire, happily crackling, than a blazing inferno she had to douse.  

 

At the last bite, Steve kissed her cheek and whispered, “ _Good girl_.”  She had to close her eyes, breath shuddering.  The words sent her drifting, floating on a peaceful sea of warmth. 

 

Vaguely, she remembered reading about this once.  Why had she…?  Oh, yeah, Pamela had made her, before she’d mated at all.  If their mates trusted them, wanted it, Alphas could use their voice like Steve did, make their mates feel good.

 

Mm, yeah.  Ryan felt good.     

 

“God,” she heard Bucky breathe, his voice distant.  Slowly, gently, Steve shifted to lie her down, anchored in his arms.  His mind kept soothing hers, whispering about how much they loved her, how they’d take care of her, how nothing would ever hurt her while they were there, how they’d never leave.   

 

“I can try with you.  If you want.”

 

A small pang of sadness from Bucky’s end, and it felt like Ryan’s heart shattered.  No, _Bucky_ –

 

_S_ _hh, shh_ , he said quickly, waves of calm lulling her back down.  _Sorry, sweetheart.  I’m fine, I promise_.

 

Her brain was working a bit slow.  Why was Bucky sad?  He shouldn’t be sad, she didn’t want that for him! 

 

Amusement came from both sides of the bond, Steve’s chest rumbling as he chuckled.  _God, you’re adorable._  

 

_I’m fine, sweetheart, really.  Just enjoy it,_ Bucky added.  _We’ve got you._

 

Ryan obediently settled down, but still pondered, gears clacking slow and heavy.  It took another minute, then it clicked.  Bucky said he couldn’t react right to Steve anymore.  That was making him sad!  He wanted to feel like this, safe and warm and happy and together.

 

Well.  She could fix that.

 

_Sweetheart?  What’re you - ?_

 

She poked at the thread between them, the bond between her and Bucky in their minds.  It seemed sturdy enough.  Carefully, she picked it up, cradled it in her hands, and gave it a little tug.

 

Aloud and in their minds, Bucky gasped, but not in pain.  He felt a little confused, but not happy yet.  _Come on,_ Ryan said, _come here.  It’s okay, I promise._

 

Steve’s end felt confused, too, and she nudged at him, too.  _C’mon, help me._

 

She felt Steve reach for him then, and she opened her eyes to see his hand settle on the nape of Bucky’s neck.  Good.  She closed her eyes again, and reached for Bucky’s mind, sending along all the nice feelings Steve had given her.  _Just relax.  It feels nice_.

 

Out loud, Steve whispered, “ _It’s okay, mo anamchara.  I’ve got you.  Let go_.”

 

Bucky shuddered, mouth dropping open.  Then, almost in free-fall, she felt him go loose and pliant, mind relaxing down right next to hers and sending out a wave of sheer, uninhibited joy.  It made her giggle with glee, wrapping herself around him like a koala.  _There.  Feel better?_

 

He nodded, gone mute.  His mind radiated thankfulness, though, and she settled to bask in it all.  She was getting tired again, and she felt Steve silently encourage her to sleep, she needed it.  He’d watch over them.

 

Just before she drifted off, she smiled.  Maybe heats weren’t the worst thing in the world after all.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

She woke up to a contented, sunshine-y feeling, like it was the first day of summer vacation and she had nowhere to be.  Whoa.  Alpha voice-induced relaxation was a trip.  And even better, she realized, her body felt normal again.  Her heat was already over.  Luis was right, the pills worked wonders.

 

Against her front, Bucky was curled like a kitten, snuffling snores a white noise.  Behind her, nothing, but she heard Steve rustling in the next room.

 

Well.  It was time.

 

She held Bucky for a moment longer, then kissed his forehead and gently untangled herself.  A new set of clothes were next to the protein bars, and she grabbed a few to munch as she pulled on the binder again.  She needed to get some bras.

 

When she was dressed, she sat on the side of the bed next to her still-sleeping mate.  “Buck?  Can you wake up?”

 

He blinked awake, then smiled at her, crooked and beaming.  Then, he surged up and kissed her, pulling her down against the pillows again as she kissed him back.  He kept kissing her, on her cheeks, nose, forehead, but always returning to her lips.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered against them, “thank you, thank you.”

 

“It was a team effort,” Ryan said modestly, and he chuckled.

 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and Steve.  You know that, right?”

 

Right then, she could almost, almost, _almost_ believe it.  Someday, she was gonna get there.  But, at least her words came easy.  “I love you.”

“

Mm.  I love you, too.”  He leaned in to kiss her again, but had to stop to stifle a yawn.  “Why’d you have to wake me up, though?  Your heat’s done, I can scent it.  Kinda a shame, though, we barely got to the good stuff.”

 

Ryan just shook her head.  “We have to talk,” she said, and he sat up a little straighter.  She called Steve’s name, and he appeared in the doorway a second later.

 

“What’s wrong?” he said, brows furrowing. 

 

The words stuck in her throat, and she swallowed heavily.  Ten seconds of bravery.  “I don’t think us running to Europe is the best plan.”

 

Steve and Bucky met eyes, then turned back to her.  “Where instead?” Steve asked.

 

“It’s not a question of where so much as… who.”  Ryan blew out a breath.  “I need to go alone.  And you two need to renounce me, publicly.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Steve said at the same time as Bucky said, “No fuckin’ way.”

 

“Please, just – listen!”  Ryan stood up, hugging her arms across her chest.  “It makes sense.  Most of our problems go away.”

 

“How?” Bucky spat, eyes bright and scent gone sharp with anger.  “And when has being apart ever been better for us?”

 

“The Avengers aligned themselves with me,” Ryan said, eyes dropping shut.  “You two did.  Which means your credibility, your influence, all the good you guys can do – it’s totally shot.  No one’s gonna trust you anymore if you don’t.”

 

“We’re not Avengers anymore,” Steve said firmly, and she looked up in surprise.  “I told you.  If it came down to you or the shield, it’s always you.  I’ll never regret that.”

 

“You will,” Ryan insisted.  “I’m a wanted terrorist, Steve!  And forget the other stuff, it’s only a matter of time until it gets out I can control minds – they’ll hack SHIELD, or interrogate my old foster sibling or classmate something – but once that’s out?  That’s it for me.  And… it’s a perfect out for you, too.”

 

“Wait, wait.  Your old foster sibling and classmate?”  Bucky frowned.  “When did you – “

 

Ryan sighed, dropping back down on the bed.  “When I was sixteen – I told you guys that story, just after we met.  He… sexually assaulted me?” 

 

Steve’s face darkened.  “Alphas are such shit,” he muttered, and Ryan and Bucky snickered. 

 

“Yeah, well, regardless.  I guarantee a jury would say I should have let him rape me rather than use mind control to stop him.  Especially since… well.  I used it to attack him back.”

 

“Threaten him,” Bucky inserted.  “No violence was actually perpetuated.  You didn’t attack him.”

 

Ryan frowned.  “Putting aside that you know the legal difference.  It doesn’t matter.  I can take away someone’s ability to fight back, and I’ve done it.  No one’s ever going to trust me again.”

 

Steve and Bucky went quiet, thinking.  It should’ve hurt more than it did, Ryan reflected, knowing she’d be a pariah forever now.  But, she’d been hiding for so long because she knew this would happen.  It wasn’t any kind of surprise.

 

Then, Bucky met her eyes again.  “Your classmate?”

 

“Yeah.  I had to discover that superpower somehow, right?”  Ryan sighed through her nose.  “I was in art class in seventh grade, and Katie Callaway had decided the quiet girl with no parents and anger issues was a perfect pet freak.  It was so stupid,” she added, shaking her head.  “I went to grab a yellow colored pencil, and she dove in first and held it up over her head.  God, I still remember – she said ‘Say please!  Didn’t your mom ever teach you manners?  Oh, wait!’”

 

A hand touched her knee, and she gave Bucky a tight-lipped smile.  “Kids are horrible,” he said.  “Why do we keep making them?”

 

That made her grin for real, just for a moment.  “Yeah, well.  I was still short then, so I couldn’t reach, and I remember I almost just – you know – grabbed it back,” Ryan said, gesturing her left hand in a pulling motion.  “But I knew I couldn’t use my powers, and she was going on and on about me being a weirdo and a freak, and I just… lost it.  I legit screamed at her ‘Just _give it back_!’ and then – she went all stiff and tense, and I was suddenly in her mind, watching it go completely blank and empty, and she handed it over, just like that. 

 

“Then, it just shut off by itself, and she gave me this… _terrified_ look.  Everyone else was staring at us, and I took off.  Locked myself in the bathroom for the rest of the day, panicked and crying and generally freaking out.  Finally, some teachers dragged me out at the final bell, and Katie never spoke to me again.”

 

They were silent for a minute after she’d finished.  Then, Steve finally moved, coming to sit beside her on the mattress.  “Well.  That’s one way to get rid of bullies.”

 

“That’s not funny, Steve.”

 

“I know.”  He pulled her into a hug, and she scented as deeply as she could when Bucky’s arms came around her, too. 

 

When Steve pulled back, though, his face was serious.  “None of that means we’re renouncing you.  It’s not going to happen.”

 

A flare of frustration sparked in her chest.  “Steve.  What did Clint, Natasha, and Tony think of me when we all first met?”  He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off.  “Right or wrong, we have to deal with reality!  And the reality is, you two are a rich, famous, male Alpha and a rich, famous male Beta, and I’m a previously homeless Omega-slash-unpresented nobody girl who can control minds.  The world _will_ assume I’m controlling you.”

 

“One,” Buck inserted, as Steve made to respond again, “I not denying any of that, but I am a former brainwashed Soviet assassin that most likely murdered JFK, and the world accepts me again just fine – “

 

“ _HYDRA_ killed JFK?  He was so nice!  What the hell is their problem?”

 

Bucky huffed a laugh, but continued.  “Two, we’re not suggesting we even necessarily try to get you back on the grid.  We’re going to Bucharest, remember?  All three of us are disappearing.  We won’t ever resurface unless and until you want to.”

 

“And Buck and I are both completely fine with that,” Steve said firmly.  “I don’t need to be Captain America.  I need to be with my mates.”

 

Ryan growled in frustration, hopping up from the mattress and starting to pace.  “You guys don’t – you both stayed!”

 

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, confused.  “We stayed – where?” Steve asked.

 

“In the hotel,” Ryan explained, voice dropping low, “you could’ve gotten out before it – and you didn’t.”

 

They looked at each other again, and Ryan sighed.  She’d known she’d have a job of convincing them this was best, but they really were stubborn, weren’t they.

 

“I’m sorry, I think I’m hearing you wrong,” Bucky started, pretending to clear out his ears.  Ryan just sighed.  “I’m almost a hundred years old, I get confused.  Are you _seriously_ upset we didn’t leave you there to ostensibly die alone?”

 

“Enough,” Steve suddenly snapped, and Ryan glared right back at him as he stood up, folding his arms.  “Ryan, I love you.  But I’m getting seriously sick of this same bullshit over and over.  I chose _us_ , all three of us, and I’ll keep choosing us over anyone else – ”

 

“I will, too,” Bucky inserted, as Steve kept going.

 

“ – because I made a vow, and it’s the right thing to do.  And honestly?  It’s time you decided what it is you want.  Is it us, or something else?”

 

Ryan clenched her hands into fists, tears prickling at her eyes.  “For god’s sakes, you’re all I’ve ever wanted!  You and you too, Bucky!  And I’m not running away from it, either!”

 

“How the hell are you not?!  Everything you said – “

 

“We have _centuries_ , Steve!”

 

Steve stopped mid-shout, looking rather taken aback.  Ryan sighed, then crossed the room to where her duffel bag sat on the floor.  She pulled out the cell phone Jess had given her, typing in a search and tossing it to Steve.  He caught it, then frowned at the picture onscreen.  “What does this have to with anything?”

 

“That’s a photo of me from my senior year in high school,” Ryan said quietly.  “Almost a decade ago.  I got a New York state I.D. because I don’t have a driver’s license.  It’s probably the last official government record of me, besides whatever SHIELD has.  If that even counts.  It’s what they’re circulating on TV and online.”

 

Bucky leaned over Steve’s shoulder, then swore under his breath.  “You haven’t aged a day." 

 

“I was told I looked old for my age,” Ryan said with a shrug.  “My real power is adaptation, remember?  So I got to a physical prime, apparently, and now…”

 

“You stopped,” Steve finished.  “And we’ve – well.  It hasn’t been long enough to tell yet, really, but… I’m not feeling any older.”

 

“Me neither,” Bucky added.  Then, he sighed wearily, walking over to Ryan and putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“Me, too,” she muttered, and they hugged each other simultaneously.  She heard Steve shuffle over, then stop, and she pulled back from Bucky to face him.  “I’m sorry I made you think I was trying to choose something besides us.”

 

“I’m so sorry I assumed you would,” he replied, and she held him as tight as she could. 

 

When she felt like her voice wouldn’t crack, she let him go, sniffing once.  “Okay.  Misunderstandings out of the way.  Can I just say everything at once?”  When they nodded, she continued, “Look.  I don’t want to be apart.  I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to lose the other Avengers and Jane and Darcy and everything we have.  But I want everyone safe more, and that means no more letting yourselves get killed for me!  And now, if you two say I was controlling you the whole time, then no one will blame you.  I mean, some people won’t trust you again, probably, but some is better than everyone.

 

“If I can disappear, people will eventually move on.  And, in a few years, you two will – will fake your deaths, or whatever you were planning to do to keep people from finding out you aren’t aging right, and you can join me.  And we have this,” Ryan added, tapping her temple with one finger and nudging gently at their minds along their bond.  “We can be together whenever we want.  And hey, maybe we just – just fake my death now, right?  Tony and Bruce and Jane are smart, and Clint’s probably done it before already, we can all figure it out.  Then I change my name and dye my hair and… go to Bucharest, or Alaska, or wherever.”

 

They were quiet after she finished, until she nodded at them to speak.  Steve blew out a breath, then said, “That is one way we could do it.  I think it could work.  But it’s not the right way.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because it’s a lie.  And a convenient one, too,” Bucky said.  “Ross knows we’re not brainwashed.  Which means the government won’t be convinced, even if everyone else is.  And it lets whoever’s behind this not only get away with it, but divide all of us, too.  Which is most likely what they wanted in the first place.”

 

“Also, there’s the Wakandans,” Steve pointed out.  “King T’Chaka’s dead, and his son was on the warpath, last we saw.  He wants someone to blame.”

 

“And, lastly, your doppelganger,” Bucky finished.  “If you fake your death, there’s nothing to stop them coming out again and ruining the effort.”

 

Ryan sighed, then dropped down onto the mattress again.  They made good points.  “What do we do, then?”

 

“We stick with the plan,” Steve said.  “We hide, for the time being.  Bucky has the expertise to keep us off the grid.  Then, we trust our friends to figure out who’s framing you, and why all this is happening, and Bucky and I reappear to help stop them.  After that, we work things out one day at a time.”

 

Ryan closed her eyes.  “My way’s easier.”

 

“True.”  Steve leaned over, pecking a kiss on her forehead.  “But we’re superheroes.  We don’t get to do easy.”

 

Didn’t she know it.  “Alright.  Let’s go.”

 

In minutes, they’d gathered their things and cleaned their scents from the place.  As she made to turn off the bedroom light, she noticed Steve’s Starkphone, charging in the corner.  “Hey, Steve, your phone,” she called, and tossed it over to him.  “I’ve got the charger.”

 

“Thanks.”  The phone buzzed as Steve turned it back on, frowning at the battery symbol.  “How Tony can invent a flying suit of armor, but have a damn Nokia flip phone’s battery outlas – Jesus H. fucking _shit_ on a cracker!”

 

“ _What?_ ” Ryan exclaimed, half-startled and half-amused at whatever just came out of Steve’s mouth.  The phone was buzzing nonstop in Steve’s hand, text after text flooding in, and she turned around to see his face turn hard, eyes bright.  Instantly, Bucky was on his left, so fast she barely saw him move.  “Guys?  What’s happening?”

 

A voicemail played, Nat’s voice yelling over shouts and grunts and the thumps of fists hitting bodies.  “Turn on your _fucking_ phone, Rogers!  Alpha One and two Dora Milaje, three minutes from your location!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: time to write!!!  
> Writer's block: hey  
> Me: hello darkness my old friend
> 
> (This sequel also isn’t as popular as the original, so I wonder if it’s still worth it, sometimes. But, if just one person reads and loves it, then I’ve made something that someone loves, and that’s always worth it <3)
> 
> Some worldbuilding in here, just for kicks! A little more on how Betas fit into these A/B/O dynamics, and what Alpha voice can do with willing mates and how to properly manage heats, as well as their bond strengthening as they explore it further. I imagine what Ryan and Bucky feel with Steve as somewhat similar to the time I took a half dose of oxycodone after my wisdom teeth came out – I’m pretty sensitive to drugs, and I was happy and floating for, like, a whole day. 
> 
> Thanks for the love <3 <3 <3


	8. In Which Ryan and Bucky Learn A Lot About Each Other, And Clint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's kinda weird, because it's action and a character study together, really. I hope you like it!

 

Ryan’s heart stopped.  “Guys?!”

 

Cold metal encased her wrist, and she yelped as Bucky jerked her out the door.  She ducked her head to dodge the two duffels and backpack Bucky swung onto his back, almost sprinting to keep up.  He barreled them down the hallway, the front stairs in their sights. 

 

“Wait – where are we going?  Bucky!?”

 

Bucky yanked on their bond, and she threw it open.  Despite their urgency, his surface thoughts were bizarrely calm, analyzing scenarios and devising plans so quick she couldn’t even follow.  A sharp contrast to her own scattered, panicked thoughts.

 

Then, quicker than his mental warning, Bucky abruptly about-faced.  Her arm almost came out of its socket as the thoughts came through.  He’d heard footsteps ahead, and she saw the warning lights flashing in his mind.  Zooming back up the hall, they ran for the back stairs this time. 

 

They passed the apartment they’d stayed in.  A second later, Steve flew out, slamming the door shut.  But to Ryan’s horror, he took off the other way, shield in hand.

 

“No – Steve!  Steve!” 

 

Steve’s mind opened in a flash.  _Ryan, a ghrá, listen to me.  Do everything Bucky says the second he says it.  I’m going to get you some cover and follow right after.  I love you.  Go!_

 

He slammed his end shut as she and Bucky reached the stairwell.  To her surprise, Bucky pulled them upstairs instead of down, feet slapping against concrete. 

 

But after a flight, her lungs burned in protest, and she tripped and stumbled on a stair.  Bucky didn’t even pause as he swept her up and took off.  Even weighed down, he cleared six flights in the time she could have made two. 

 

The stairs finally ran out, and they burst through a door into bright heat and blue sky above.  Tan concrete shone in the sun and made her squint.  A few lawn chairs sat by an ash tray nearby, and a red t-shirt snapped in a breeze, hanging from the laundry line stretched between the doorframe to a pole in the roof’s corner. 

 

She whipped her head around before her eyes went any further.  For fuck’s sake.  They did not have time for an acrophobia-induced panic attack.

 

Bucky’s mind and feet suddenly stopped.  “Shit.  Heights.  I forgot.”

 

“I’m fi – fine,” Ryan gasped, “just – just give me a second.”

 

He carefully lowered her down, and she closed her eyes and their connection, focusing solely on the solid rock under her feet.  Just like being on a… hill, or something.  She was just a little high up, no problem.  She’d been on the Tower roof a zillion times, this was nothing!  Just because these edges were a lot closer and made of crumbling concrete and didn’t have Tony’s magic invisible walls, keeping her from plummeting a thousand feet to a horrible splattering death below –

 

“Ryan!”  Bucky’s voice snapped her out of her head.  He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her a little.  “I need you to get it together.  Now.”

 

He let her go to run back across to the roof access door.  A groaning metal sound, and he snapped off the inside handle before yanking it shut.  Great!  Now they were trapped up here!

 

Get it together, Green, she told herself.  Steve can break through the door.  Bad guys probably can’t.  Hopefully.  And speaking of –

 

“Who the hell is Alpha One?” she said aloud, “and what’s a Dora Mil-ah-shake?”

 

Bucky snorted.  “Mil-AH-shay,” he said, “and it’s the Wakandans.  Nat and Clint were on them.  Somehow, they found us here.”

 

“Wait – the Wakandans?  As in, the new king of the African country I probably can’t point out on a map is literally here?  In San Francisco?”

 

Bucky looked at her like she was crazy.  “We just told you he was after you.”

 

“I thought that meant, like, politically!”  Ryan’s hands flew to her hair, too short to properly grip in dismay.  “Like, he was working with Ross or something!  What, the guy’s _literally_ trying to kill me?  Can he do that?!”

 

“Assassins generally don’t ask permission, Ryan.”  Bucky crossed the roof again to grab her waist, squeezing comfortingly.  “Listen.  Rule number one: don’t panic.  Panic puts _me_ in danger, trying to keep you safe if you freeze up and can’t listen.”

 

That caught her attention.  She lowered her arms, blowing out a breath.  “Maybe next time we go down instead of up, then?”

 

“Up here’s safer,” Bucky countered.  “They had the exits covered.  Only one access point to the roof, and escape routes in every direction.”

 

She shot his own _are-you-crazy?_ look back at him.  “I thought only Steve was insane enough to jump bareback.”

 

“Excuse you, I always bring a parachute.  In this case, you.”

 

“Wait, what?!”

 

“You can fly, Ryan,” Bucky said impatiently.  “I grab you, we jump, you land us nice and easy.”

 

“I most certainly will not!” Ryan screeched, batting his hands off and scrambling away.  “Are you fucking insane?!  I am not jumping _anywhere_ \- !”

 

He caught her again, pinning her arms roughly to her sides.  “You will if I tell you to,” he growled, and Ryan froze.  “This is your _life_ we’re talking about.  I will do whatever it takes to save it, and if that means you’re a little scared, then good.  You should be.  It’ll keep you alive.”

 

She stared at him with wide eyes.  He was right.  She was scared.  But not of secret government agents or rogue royalty, this time.  “Let – let me go.”    

 

After a second, he did.  “Alright.  Rule number two: don’t use your powers without my say-so under any circumstances, except to save your life.  I’m serious,” he added as she made to argue.  “The people after you are skilled fighters, but they’re normal humans.  We’re not.  If you use your powers and anything goes wrong, it will be used against you.  Self-defense is your only defense.”

 

“What about you?!  Or Steve, what if he’s – ”

 

“Ryan.  I’ve got super strength, super speed, super healing, military training and a vibranium arm.  Steve is two hundred twenty pounds of pissed-off, super-soldier Alpha defending his mates.  Nat and Clint are backing him up.  We’ll be fine.”

 

 

_BANG!_

 

 

The shot echoed through her mind like it was fired right next to her.  A searing pain in her left side, and she cried out as she felt Steve clutch at his wound, blood staining his hands. He grunted, dropping to one knee as his shield clattered to the floor.  Then, suddenly, his mind wrenched itself back away.

 

The pain vanished.  Ryan’s eyes went round with horror as she saw Bucky touch his left side, his eyes darting to the stairwell door.

 

“Bucky.”

 

“No.”

 

Bullshit.  For the first time, anger overtook the fear churning in her stomach.  She took a step towards the door, but Bucky jumped in the way.

 

 “Ryan – “

 

“He’s hurt!” she screamed, hands clenching to fists.  “You felt it too – I’m not letting him die down there!”

 

“You want to get through the door?  Use your powers on me,” Bucky said, spreading his arms wide. 

 

Her jaw dropped.  “Are you _fucking_ – Steve just got shot!”

 

“He told you to listen to me,” Bucky said firmly.  “And I’m saying, stay put.”

 

Her heart pounded in her ears as she stared at him.  He glared back, jaw set.  A small breeze blew past, cooling the sweat on her neck and ruffling the ends of Bucky’s hair.  Adrenaline pumped through her veins.  She held her breath.

 

Then, she threw her hand up, and Bucky flinched. 

 

It was quick.  Instinct.  His face instantly went smooth again.  And Ryan felt the blood rush from her face.

 

Oh god.  Oh god, oh god, did she just –

 

“Bucky,” she gasped.  Her knees went weak, and she stumbled back a step.  Her ears started ringing, sound dissolving to static.  She’d just raised her hand against him.  She was about to use her powers on her own mate. 

 

And he’d been scared of her.

 

_What have I done?_

 

It was a yank on their bond that pulled her back, and she realized her hands, clapped to her mouth in horror, were shining bright blue.  Bucky was shaking her by the shoulders, yelling her name.  After a moment, she managed a nod.

 

“You back?” he said briskly, and she nodded again.  A deep breath, and the light started to fade away. 

 

When it was gone, she slowly lowered her hands.  Bucky had stepped back, eyeing her carefully.  His face was impassive, and she didn’t dare even think about looking in his mind.  She was already clenching her gut against the guilt threatening to spill out of her like bile.

 

Bucky nodded once, and they just stood there, staring at each other.  Ryan dropped her eyes first, and felt his boring into her skull.  The fingers on his left hand tapped against his holstered gun, metal clinking on metal. 

 

Ryan clutched her arms to her stomach.  That was his tell.  Steve paced when he was angry.  She cried at – well, pretty much everything.  And Bucky tapped his metal fingers when he was anxious.

 

Then, someone knocked on the stairwell door.

 

Her head flew back up, mouth already forming Steve’s name, when Bucky’s flesh hand gagged her.  He put one hand to his lips, then released her.

 

“That’s not Steve,” he breathed.He positioned himself in front of her, silently drawing his gun. 

 

The door jiggled, then thudded against the frame, like someone tried to bust it in and failed.  Ryan held her breath, and Bucky aimed his gun.

 

Then, a very familiar noise of frustration came muffled through the door.  “Dammit, Barnes, so I don’t know your secret password!  Open the fucking sesame!”

 

“Clint!” Ryan shrieked, and she dove out from behind Bucky before he could stop her.  She shoved one arm to the side, and the door burst open to reveal Clint awkwardly standing on one leg, clearly about to try and kick his way through.

 

“Ryan!” he shouted, and tore forward to meet her halfway.  His hug almost knocked her over, squeezing so tight she gasped for breath.  His scent was bursting with happiness, and she breathed it in deep, feeling him do the same. 

 

Then, he abruptly pushed back, hands patting frantically up and down her arms and sides.

 

“You okay?  You’re okay,” he answered himself, hands roaming to her buzzed hair, “you’re great, you even got a haircut.  God, I never pictured you with it short, but it’s _adorable_ – “

 

“Barton!” Bucky snapped.  He stalked forward, teeth bared.  “Steve went down, where is he?”

 

“Sam’s got him,” Clint said quickly, and Ryan could have collapsed with relief.  “He’s fine, shot was a graze – Nat took out two Dora Milaje at once!” he added with a huge grin, like he was so proud he was about to burst.  “ _Two_ – oh, and His Ass-ness took off when he saw Steve, you should’ve seen him turn tail – “

 

“What?!” Bucky shouted, and Ryan jumped as he took off for the door again.  He slammed it shut, wrenching the metal handle with a horrible grinding sound and wedging it as a makeshift stop. 

 

“I just said he took off!” Clint called, throwing the arm not side-hugging Ryan in the air.  “He’s a huge wimp!”

 

Bucky whirled around, stomping back towards them.  “If he ran off,” he growled, “and you and Nat took care of the Dora Milaje, then _who shot Steve?_ ” 

 

Clint’s eyes went wide.  “Uh oh.”

 

“Time to go,” Bucky said, grabbing Ryan’s hand and making her jog behind him.  He scooped up their bags in his other hand, already halfway to the edge.  “Ryan, you need to land all three of us, Barton will rendezvous with Steve and give him our location – “

 

“Are you insane?!” Clint inserted, jumping in front of them.  “You want her to fly us off the roof?!  Ryan’s scared of heights!”

 

“You have a way out past the active shooter gunning for her?” Bucky barked.  He shoved past Clint, his grip like a vice.  “We don’t have time for this – Ryan, _let’s go_.”

 

“Hey!”  A thud and a  _shink_ of metal, and Bucky whirled around.  Ryan followed, and her jaw dropped.  Clint tossed Bucky's gun aside, unfurled bow in hand, then grabbed a sharp-tipped arrow and nocked it.  “Let her go.”   

 

In a flash, Bucky jerked Ryan behind him.  She overbalanced and fell to her knees, and his grip on her wrist only tightened.  Instinctively, she tried to squirm free, and her wrist screamed in protest.  “Bucky, hey - !”

 

“An arrow, Barton?” Bucky inserted.  His words were mocking, but his voice was low and dangerous. 

 

“You’re hurting her,” Clint said.  His tone sent a ripple of fear down Ryan’s spine.  Calm, even, and cold as death.  He took aim, stretching the bowstring to the corner of his mouth.  “Last chance.”    

 

_CRASH!_

 

The stairwell door flew off its hinges, clattering and skidding across the roof.  Ryan scrabbled to her feet to see, hope ballooning in her chest.  Steve was here, only he was that strong, he was okay – !

 

A shape cloaked in black prowled forward from the dark.  Its face was covered, eyes a steely mask.  Rippling muscles bulged through a bodysuit, thighs so thick they could snap Ryan’s neck like a twig.  Silver spikes like a necklace of teeth glinted in the sun, and sharp, wicked claws curled from its fingertips. 

 

And it had little cat ears.

 

_What on earth?_

 

For a millisecond, the figure stared at her, and she stared back.  He – she probably shouldn’t assume, what with the gang of terrifying warrior women downstairs, but the shape was definitely masculine – cocked his head to the side, and she was viscerally reminded of when she and Clint had watched the Animal Planet Kitten Cam for two hours straight.  He’d sneaked some of Nat’s special occasion vodka, cried when a calico tripped on its paws, then fell asleep and drooled on her hair.

 

But, really.  Were the cat ears supposed to be scary?  It ruined the whole effect for her.

 

Then, with a furious roar, he lunged for her head, and the terror ratcheted right back up to eleven.

 

Quicker than she could follow, Bucky blocked him.  His metal arm clanged against the metal on the suit, and then they were fighting. 

 

The man was a wicked fighter.  He moved graceful as the cat he was portraying, dodging Bucky’s hits and landing his own strikes in the same movement.  A sweeping kick and Bucky thudded to the ground.  Bucky grabbed the man’s ankles and yanked, but somehow they were on their feet again in a second. 

 

The man swiped his claws at Bucky’s face, and he blocked with his left arm.  Metal screeched horribly, and he twisted around to sock the man in the stomach.  He flew back ten feet, but twisted in midair and landed on all fours, claws grinding him to a stop. 

 

All of it took place in maybe five seconds.  Bucky stalked forward, and the man suddenly leapt six feet in the air, flying down on top of him.  The fight continued, fists and kicks faster and harder than any Ryan had ever seen. 

 

“Ryan, come on!”  Clint took her hand and tugged her toward the stairs, shaking her from her reverie.  “Get behind me!”

 

The man must’ve heard him, because quick as lightning, he locked Bucky in a chokehold and kneed him in the stomach.  Bucky gasped for breath, and the man darted forward for her again.

 

Ryan instinctively threw her arms up in defense, but before he reached her, something whizzed past her ears.  Two arrows flew into view, heading straight for his chest.  In a flash, the man plucked them from midair and tossed them to the ground. 

 

Her eyes widened.  Her feet finally obeyed her orders to _move, goddammit, fucking move!_ and she took off for the stairwell.  More arrows flew behind her, but suddenly, the man was in front of her, lunging for her throat.

 

With a furious shout, Bucky tackled him from the side.  They grunted as they fell, Bucky landing on top and pummeling the man’s jaw.  Clint was running side to side, looking for an opening with his bow drawn. 

 

The man caught Bucky’s next punch in his hand.  He hooked his leg around and flipped them, barreling into Bucky’s face and swiping with his claws.  Bucky barely dodged, throwing the man off him again.  He flipped through the air and into a roundhouse kick, and Bucky flew back this time.  He landed with a hard thud, and his chest heaved as he climbed back to his feet.  The man was barely breathing hard, and blocked more arrows with an almost lazy flick of his arm.

 

With a terrible, sinking dread, Ryan realized.  This guy was better than Bucky.  He was better than Bucky and Clint fighting together.

 

He was going to kill them. 

 

Which meant she had to do something.

 

“Hey!” she screamed, and the man whipped around.  She opened her arms wide.  “I’m right here!”

 

She forced herself to keep her eyes open as he flew at her.  Her arms dropped to her sides.  In the corner of her eye, she saw Clint drawing another arrow, adrenaline slowing the world to half-speed.  It’d be too late. 

 

But Bucky had said not to use her powers to save them.  And she trusted her mate.

 

So she’d use herself, instead.

 

All at once, the world zoomed into double time.  At the last second, Bucky appeared in front of her, catching the blow aimed at her head.  He drop-kicked the man in the chest, and he stumbled back.

 

Then, when Bucky lunged for him again, he ducked, caught Bucky’s arm, and used the momentum to fling him over the edge of the roof.   

 

Ryan’s heart stopped.  She saw Bucky fling an arm out to no avail, eyes wide.  Then he disappeared without a sound. 

 

“ _BUCKY!!!_ ”

 

Without a thought, she sprinted to the edge and jumped.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *strolls in a month late, dressed like Thomas Jefferson* So, what did I miss?
> 
> For real, though, I guess I'm just going to have to accept that I can't write this story as fast as I want to. I just got an undergraduate I'm training, I'm doing my own research, I'm trying to be an adult and failing miserably (my laundry pile is terrifying. I think it's gaining sentience). 
> 
> Also, I had a couple weeks of bizarre anxiety and I've fallen back into my old coping mechanisms, namely, mindlessly watching TV and not taking care of myself. So, all this is to say, I apologize. I wanted more to give you and I wanted it sooner - especially after I got SO MANY kind comments on the last chapter! It was wonderful to hear from all of you. I hope you liked this one too <3


	9. In Which The Mystery Deepens

A ragged gasp, and wet coughs pierced the air. Water dripped down to cement floors, dirty and gray, cracked and sloppily patched; the chair wobbled and splashed in puddles as he shivered.

 

“H-Hypothermia,” he said through clenched teeth, “the condit – condition of abnormally low body t-temperature, caused by prolonged exposure to – “

 

His words drowned in his throat as his head was wrenched back, a wall of water plunging down. Don’t breathe, don’t breathe, don’t panic, don’t breathe –

 

The water stopped. He sucked in air, chest heaving. Then, without warning, vomit forced itself up and spilled out, hot and sour and making him gag.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” and the soaked burlap was ripped off his head. Footsteps stomped away as he heaved again, dribbling down his front. Odd, he thought, head starting to spin. They hadn’t given him food in seventeen hours, he shouldn’t have anything to regurgitate.

 

Acid stung his throat as he spoke. “Waterboarding; b-banned in the U.S. by President Obama, 2009, by executive ord – order. C-considered a war crime since 1949 with the signing of the Third Geneva Convention.”

 

He bit back a shriek at the backhanded slap across his face. Blood, hot against his clammy skin, flowed anew from his nose; it had felt broken three punches ago. They’d tried beating him first, naturally. Bloody brutes.

 

He gasped shallow breaths through his mouth. In. Out. They’re coming. They must be, how could they have not found him yet –

 

“Password,” his captor grunted, almost lazily.

 

Tears welled in his eyes against his will, and he squeezed them shut. Please, let them find him soon. “Open sesame. A phrase originating from Arabic folklore, the story of _Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves_ – “

 

He flinched, but the raised fist paused in midair at a burst of radio static. “Thing One has landed; Thing Two en route overland. ETA thirty seconds. Stand by; repeat, stand by.”

 

_Thing…_

 

“Codenames?” he muttered aloud, words slurring as his head flopped forward. “’Course they’re codenames, dumbarse. For whom are the names coding, tha’s the ques…”

 

“Shut up,” his captor barked.

 

“O-One and Two,” he mumbled, “they’re a set, a set of match… phrase origin, Dr. Se-Seuss’ Cat in the Hat. Pen name. Real name, Theo… Theodore…”

 

“Get out,” a new voice snapped, and Leo Fitz yanked his head up as a metal door slammed, boots clacking across the floor. He knew that voice – not well, and on less friendly terms than he preferred, but it was an ally’s voice nonetheless – she was an Avenger – !

 

His eyes caught hers, and he slumped down with relief. “Miss Green,” he croaked, “R-Ryan – thank god – but how did you know – ?”

 

She rolled her eyes, sighing in disgust, and his stomach twisted. “What do they all see in that whiny little bitch?” she muttered, throwing up a hand. “She is so _boring_.”

 

Fitz’s heart plummeted to his shoes. Not Ryan. But wearing her face and clothes, using her body and voice. But no matter; there’s no possible way she could copy Ryan’s –

 

“Tell me the password,” Not-Ryan said, now examining her black-painted fingernails with a bored expression, “or I make you.”

 

Fitz almost snorted, and the thought alone made his nose throb with pain. What in bloody hell could she do to him? She weighed eight stone if he weighed two, and he’d already been beaten, bruised, and drowned alive, for god’s sakes. He wasn’t about to give up now.

 

“Do your worst, then,” he said, and anger flashed in Not-Ryan’s eyes. For a second, she just glared at him. Then, she stomped forward, hands raising and fingers twisting, and his stomach dropped as they glowed bright blue.

 

Then, white-hot pain surged in his head, and blackness swallowed him whole. From far, far away, he heard himself screaming.

 

Some time later, it stopped.

 

“The password,” Not-Ryan said listlessly.

 

Fitz only whimpered. Then, as she raised her hand again, he croaked, “J-Jemma. She’s the password.”

 

* * *   * * *    * * *

 

Tony was not where he was supposed to be.

 

 _And plutonium is radioactive_ , Bruce thought exhaustedly. The lab stood dim and empty, only the occasional whir of a motor or blink of green LEDs interrupting the gloom. Tony wasn’t in his lab, his office, the roof, or their favorite common room. Where else did Tony even go?  
He glanced up at the ceiling – Steve, Bucky and Ryan all did it, it somehow felt rude not to now – and said, “JARVIS? Did Tony do something stupid?”

 

“Depends on your current standards of stupidity, sir. To answer your true query, he is in his and Miss Potts’ bedroom, having a… conversation, with SHIELD Director Coulson.”

 

“Conversation?”

 

“An energetic one, by Sir’s standards.”

 

Bruce chuckled to himself, stepping back into the elevator and pressing the number three. “And by polite, non-heathen standards?”

 

“Sir is now simply repeating ‘go to hell’ in every language he knows. As he is conversational in eighteen and fluent in another seven – ”

 

“Right,” Bruce sighed, and stepped out of the elevator and into a Fifth Avenue furniture gallery, dim in the light of the fading day. He took off his shoes out of courtesy, then chuckled to himself, remembering. The first time he’d come to their floor, he and Pepper had shared a pot of lovely jasmine tea and gossiped like cranky old ladies, lounging on a ten-thousand-dollar Italian leather sofa. Tony had come in two hours later, coated head to toe in sticky, bright green goo, and immediately collapsed on the couch between them, grumbling something about particle physics and bioengineering not mixing well. He never did find out what the hell that stuff was.

 

The second, Pepper had wanted his opinion on where to place their newly acquired Chagall, as though he would have intelligent critique on the matter. It went over the bar, because Bruce figured that’s where Tony would see it most. Whether he’d yet to notice it, Bruce also didn’t know.

 

He paused in the living room, Tony’s voice muffled down the hall. The third time he’d come, the antique Persian rug had been ruined when Pepper smashed a bottle of Chateau Mouton-Rothschild, her harrowing sobs almost a scream. She’d collapsed onto the stain, and Tony had simply walked over and sat in it with her, eyes empty and blank. Bruce had taken both their hands and held them until the sunrise.

 

That was the night they’d lost Emily, and any other future Starks.

 

After that, he’d started inviting Pepper to his place.

 

“Tony?” he called down the hall, footsteps padding on the runner. The voices grew clearer as he approached, as well as a sharp buzzing and clanking of tools.

 

“ – need to work together, Stark – “

 

A clang on metal, and “ _Jigoku ni iku_.”

 

“ – Daisy’s already hacked every server we can think of, there’s no sign of him anywhere – ”

 

“ _Eik velniop, agentas_.”

 

_Whirr, whirr – whoosh!_

 

“ – would you put the damn torch down – !”

 

Bruce didn’t bother to knock, shoving the door open to announce his presence. It banged against the wall, and exasperation seeped under his skin as both Tony and Coulson paused, each looking slightly guilty. Tony held an acetylene welding torch, hissing quietly and flaming blue, a myriad of greasy metal shapes with no discernible pattern for use littering the carpet around him. Why Tony would bring his work up here when a fully functional robotics lab was locked and loaded downstairs, Bruce chalked up to yet another mystery in Tony and Pepper’s apartment.

 

He gave Tony a flat, unimpressed look, then turned back to Coulson’s image on the movie-theater-sized wall monitor.

 

“Hello, Director,” he said, forcing his voice to sound pleasant. “As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re dealing with a situation right now – could Tony call you back?”

 

“Agent Fitz was kidnapped two days ago,” Coulson said in reply. “It’s not a coincidence.”

 

Bruce blew out a breath. They should’ve anticipated this. “You’re head of an agency of often-enhanced super spies, Phil.”

 

“Which one of them stands a chance against Green?” Coulson retorted coldly. “Or whoever the hell that imposter is. She blew up a building with Stark-level security, for god’s sakes, and my smartest tech agent is currently in her clutches.”

 

“Oh, fuck that,” Tony growled, brandishing the torch in midair, “it’s just as likely the Wakandans have him, and considering you know fuck all right now – ”

 

Bruce walked over to him, switched off the torch, and shoved his shoulders down so he sat on the edge of the bed. Tony glared up at him, but lowered his head at Bruce’s stern look. He held out a hand for the torch, and tossed it to the floor when Tony relinquished it.

 

“Let me get this straight,” he said, turning back to Coulson. “Special Agent Fitz disappeared just after Ryan was framed. Why him?"

Coulson sighed. "He and Simmons were responsible for every record regarding Green. Considering her abilities and our... history, we wanted higher than top security."

Bruce nodded. "You’ve been unable to locate him through government surveillances, both ours and Wakandan?”

 

“Well – no. Wakanda has the most advanced computer tech in the world – yes, Stark, better than yours,” Coulson sniped, and Tony rolled his eyes. “Daisy doesn’t have any experience with their systems, so we can’t be absolutely sure. But, how could they know about our files on Green unless the files had been hacked before, which, our systems show they haven’t? And we only have mission debriefs from last December – oh, and her medical records. What would they do with those?”

 

Bruce frowned. “Why would imposter-Ryan be after them, either?”

 

“No clue. But she would’ve had to trail real-Ryan to be able to frame her – she had to know about the SI event, figure out a way to disguise herself so well, et cetera. If she did her homework, she knows about Operation Kilgrave. And wants details, apparently.”

 

Bruce nodded, still frowning. Made sense to him. But what could be in those SHIELD files that was so valuable? Unless they kept – no, they couldn't be so stupid -

 

“Alright, Phil. How can we help?”

 

“Send us the security footage from the Edwin, maybe there’s a clue to imposter-Ryan’s base of operations. And give Daisy remote access to JARVIS, he’s more powerful than any of our systems.”

 

“Done,” Bruce said, and instructed JARVIS to do so. “Goodnight, Director. Keep us updated.”

 

Coulson nodded, and the screen went black. Bruce sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose with a forefinger and thumb for a moment. “Why weren’t you helping him?”

 

“Oh, am I done with my time-out?” Tony snapped, and Bruce leveled a cool gaze at him. Tony huffed, getting up and pushing past to start collecting the scrap metal from the floor. “We don’t have time to clean up SHIELD’s messes and ours. They were the idiots who kidnapped Ryan first anyway – “

 

“On your recommendation,” Bruce chided, and Tony huffed again.

 

“Yeah, and he’s an idiot for listening to me. It’s their fault they have any information on her at all, and if they can’t keep their people safe, I’m not about to do it for them.”

 

Ah. This again. They should follow that thought trail to its ugly end at some point, but not now. “We don’t have time for a pity party right now, either,” Bruce said, tone more gentle than the words. “Natasha just called – the Dora Milaje found Ryan in San Francisco, but they fought them off. As far as they know right now, Bucky got Ryan away; they haven’t checked in yet. Steve got grazed with a bullet, but he’s fine – ”

 

Tony whipped his head around, brows furrowed in confusion. “He got shot?”

 

“Yes, but he’ll be fi – “

 

“No, no, I don’t care about that,” Tony inserted, dropping his armful of metal unceremoniously on his and Pepper’s pristine white bedspread. “Did they see who shot him?”

 

“Not to my knowledge – where are you goi – Tony?” Bruce said, exasperation morphing to true annoyance as he hurried out the door after him.

 

“They don’t use guns!” Tony yelled back, ducking into his computer room across the apartment. “All that eighties-style, Mr. Miyagi bullshit about honor in combat, the Milaje don’t even carry them.”

 

Bruce entered to see Tony typing furiously, eyes fixed on a blue-tinted hologram popping up in the center of the room. Grainy, black-and-white figures in dark, flowing clothes ran down an apartment building hallway, and Bruce noticed their leader had a fully bald head before the view suddenly cut to static.

 

Tony swore so profusely Bruce found himself impressed. “Of- _fucking_ -course.”

 

“Ross?” Bruce suggested, and Tony shrugged haplessly.

 

“T’Challa’s Angels obviously followed Cap and Buck to her. If Ross had half a brain, he’d just follow them.” He stood back up, heading into the kitchen and grabbing a half-full pot of coffee sitting on the counter. He guzzled it down cold before chucking it in the sink, leaning against the fridge. “Doesn’t explain why someone shot Steve, though. He walks off bullets like they’re bee stings, why even bother?”

 

Bruce didn’t know, and from the look on Tony’s face, neither of them had any ideas. He shook his head. They'd figure it out, somehow. In the meantime, he should bully Tony into eating something soon, and his stomach growled in agreement. "Do you want Chinese or Indian?"

 

Tony glanced away, fidgeting with a fork he found on the counter. "Pepper likes the kung pao from Hakkasan. She's on the 58th floor with the board. Should be done soon."

 

"Shouldn't you be there, too?"

 

"I wouldn't be any help," he muttered, and the sheer, unfiltered honesty worried Bruce more than any missing SHIELD agent.

 

Goddammit. He wished he could hug him. But if he did, he might forget how to let go, and neither of them needed that. So he nodded instead, turning to leave but pausing halfway. “You know what’s in Ryan’s SHIELD files.”

 

Tony nodded. “Walking fountain of youth, new powers pop up like daisies.”

 

“Imposter-Ryan either doesn’t know what the files say and just wants them as possible ammo against her,” Bruce reasoned, “or – ”

 

“ – she already knows, and needs the files to spill the rest of real-Ryan’s beans,” Tony finished.

 

Bruce sighed again. “So. We have a mysterious shooter, a missing SHIELD agent, and Ryan’s evil twin committing an act of terror and framing her for it, and the only half-baked motive is ruining Ryan’s life. And there are at least three separate groups now gunning for our teammate’s heads.” He met Tony’s eyes, his own frustration mirrored there. “Why do I get the feeling the chaos only just started?”

 

Tony frowned darkly back at him. “’Cause you’re smart.”

 

“’Cause I’m smart,” Bruce agreed sadly.

 

 

* * *    * * *    * * *

 

 

“BUCKY!!!”

 

Then, she was falling.

 

Air rushed in her ears, blocking out everything else. She might have been screaming, she might have gone mute; she had no idea. The world dissolved to a blur. Her eyes watered and tears whipped upwards, air stinging and drying.

 

Her arms circled and pumped, instinctively looking for balance, but there was none. She felt herself slip head over heels, and new panic shot through her.  No, no, it couldn’t end like this – another second and the ground would shatter bone like glass –

 

Then, upside-down, she saw Bucky tumbling beneath her.

 

Suddenly, it was clear.  Death, or him.

 

She threw out a hand, and Bucky shouted in pain, and then she was on top of him. Her shoulder slammed into his chest, jerking her neck, and then they were still falling, but Bucky’s metal arm crushed her to him and somehow flipped them right side up.

 

She felt his thought more than heard it, quick as lightning, and the rushing sound suddenly lessened, the world at half-speed instead of triple.  A little more, a little more –

 

Then, it all stopped.

 

The air was quiet, but the blood rushing in her ears was loud as a windstorm. Her heart beat so fast it hurt, adrenaline burning through her veins. But, they were alive.

 

It had all taken maybe five seconds.  At some point she’d screwed her eyes shut, and she pried them open, breath coming in jerking gasps.  They were floating two feet above the ground in a trash-filled alleyway, Bucky holding her like he’d rolled them over in bed.  His eyes were wide open, panic turning to awe as he stared at her.  Her chest heaved against his, but he was barely breathing.

 

“You,” he whispered, “you – jumped. For me.”

 

She opened her mouth to reply, then clapped a hand over it.  Shoving out of his grip, she rolled over and dropped the last two feet, thudding on her back.  The sweet, blessed, beloved solid ground settled her stomach a fraction, and she swallowed the urge to vomit.

 

“Hey, let me down,” Bucky said, and she managed to lower him a bit more gently this time. He sat up slowly, hand touching his ribs and wincing.

 

“Shit,” Ryan breathed, then yelped as she reached for him, hand flying to her left shoulder instead.  It had plowed into his ribcage, and moving her arm felt like walking on a twisted ankle.  “Ow, shit!”

 

“I’m fine, are you – ” Bucky said, then inhaled sharply as he looked at her. “Hey, no, don’t move that arm – your shoulder’s dislocated.”

 

He hopped to his feet, then paused for a second, looking dazed.  He shook it off, then leaned down and scooped her into his arms.  It jostled her shoulder, and Ryan bit back a scream.

 

“You’re okay, just hold on – Nat should be just around the corner – “

 

“No,” Ryan gasped, suddenly realizing, “Clint – he’s still up there, that maniac’s gonna – !”

 

A strangled yell from above cut her off. “AaaaaAAAAHHHH – RYAN CATCH ME RYAN CATCH ME RYAN CATCH ME – “

 

Ryan shrieked and flung out her right hand.  Clint slowed to a gentle halt, alighting on the ground like a bird.  It was a lot easier to telekinetic-ly move things with precision when she wasn’t about to die.

 

“Whew,” Clint said with a grin, holstering his bow like he hadn’t purposely leapt off a building without a plan for landing.  He glanced up, and Ryan did too; no sign of the cat-man.  Probably smart enough to use the stairs.  “Thanks. Didn’t feel like racing him down here.”

 

“No problem,” she managed, then gritted her teeth against a wave of pain in her shoulder. “Buck, let me down, I can walk – “

 

“Without passing out or vomiting?”

 

“I can try,” she insisted.  Bucky sighed, but lowered her to her feet.  Her heart still pounded too fast, but less like a racehorse, and her stomach was settling down.  Her shoulder, however, was burning with pain as the adrenaline wore off.  She couldn’t let go of her left arm without it worsening tenfold, and she held it square against her side with her right.

 

“Ooh, that doesn’t look great – I’ll go get Sam – he’s got the first aid, he’ll fix you up. Nat and Cap can take a turn with His Royal Ass-ness,” Clint said, glaring briefly upwards as he started to jog around the corner.

 

Oh.  So that _was_ King T'Challa. Well, good to know there weren’t any other bloodthirsty enhanced assassins gunning for them.  Wait, _gunning_ –

 

“Steve!” Ryan said, turning wide-eyed to Bucky. “Come on, we have to – "

 

An odd scraping sound interrupted her.  She glanced up and down the alley, Bucky copying her; only garbage cans and cigarette butts.  It was getting closer, louder, bouncing from side to side against the brick walls –

 

A shadow swooped overhead.  Ryan looked up, and the King of Wakanda was leaping between the alley walls, metal claws scraping and slowing his fall.  Then, with a roar, he pounced straight for her head.

 

Ryan tried to lift her right hand, then grabbed her shoulder again, screaming at the pain.  She curled into herself, bracing for impact –

 

“NO!”

 

Silence.  The hit didn’t come, and Ryan dared to look.  Then, she almost fell over in surprise.

 

T'Challa was frozen in midair, a clawed hand not three inches from her face.  He looked like he’d been carved from black stone.  But the outline of his bodysuit shimmered with warm, yellow light, bright against the darkening alley behind.

 

Ryan slowly turned around.  Behind her, Bucky stood with his metal arm outstretched, brown eyes shining gold, and his face gone white with shock.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HASN'T BEEN A _WHOLE_ MONTH THIS TIME, I DID BETTER RIGHT *sweats guiltily*
> 
> Also, fun fact: It takes just under 2.5 seconds to plummet to your death off a 10-story building if you don’t have superpowers. Thankfully, Ryan does. (Shout-out to my man Dr. Clem for teaching my dumb ass physics, sorry I still had to look up the equations online.)


	10. In Which Ryan Gets Out of a Frying Pan and Heads Off Towards a Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm still alive!...

 

_What._

 

Ryan understood what was happening, academically.  Bucky was using telekinesis.  Right.  Obvious.  His eyes were glowing, like hers did.  His hand was held out exactly how she’d have held it, if she were using her powers.  Cause she had telekinesis. 

 

Bucky didn’t.  Bucky had super strength, and speed, and healing and reflexes and stamina and – !

 

“What the _hell?_ ” she breathed, eyes flicking between Bucky’s face, jaw slack and eyes glowing bright amber, and the King of Wakanda, stuck in midair like a paused video.  “What the h – no, shit, Bucky, let him go!  Let him go!”

 

Bucky blinked once, rousing enough to look to her.  She’d never seen him so shocked.  “I – I – ”

 

“You’re not letting him breathe!” she half-shrieked, breaking into a run towards her mate.  Her dislocated shoulder throbbed with pain, tears flowing freely, but she ignored them.  “You’ll crush him, let him go!”

 

“I can’t!  I can’t, I – I don’t – “ 

 

Bucky’s breath came hard and fast, words seizing in his throat.  He dropped his outstretched arm like it was a bomb, but T’Challa didn’t move.  Around them, the garbage cans began rattling, unnatural wind gusting through his hair.  Panicked, glowing eyes met hers, and she grabbed his metal hand, the pain in her left shoulder forgotten.

 

On instinct, she opened his mind to hers, and fear and disbelief and utter shock slammed into her.  For a second, it sent her reeling, gritting her teeth, before she wrenched past it, squeezing his hand as tight as she could.  Behind it all, the sheer _power_ – impossible, but god, all too familiar – coursed through him, but wild, unstable, like she hadn’t felt in herself since she was a child. 

 

_It’s okay_ , she whispered, hoping to god it wasn’t a lie.  _Like this_.

 

Then, she brushed her mind against his, eyes dropping shut.  Mimicking how it felt, how she controlled it.  His attempts in response were flailing, awkward, like a toddler learning to walk on wobbling legs.

 

It had to have been seconds, but it felt like hours later when there was a flash of warm, golden light, and T’Challa dropped to the ground, coughing wetly and gasping for breath.  One hand grabbed at his collar, stretching the fabric away as the other braced him on his knees. 

 

At the same time, Ryan reached with her mind and slammed the lid on Bucky’s power.  Instantly, the wind died down, the garbage cans in the alley rattling to a standstill, their dim shadows returning to the darkened brick walls. 

 

Bucky shook his head like a dog, haze in his eyes starting to clear.  Then, he looked down at T’Challa, just as T’Challa looked up at Ryan.

 

 “Where was your mercy,” he spat, “when you burned my father alive?”

 

Then, with a flick of his wrist, a thick cloud of black smoke exploded around them.  Ryan doubled over coughing, eyes burning and streaming as she heard Bucky doing the same.  When it cleared, T’Challa was gone.

 

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, starting forward, but he just as quickly wheeled around and scooped her up into his arms.  Ryan looped her good arm around his neck as he sprinted them through the alley and around the back of the building.  “How’s your arm?”

 

“Well, it doesn’t hurt anymore, but that’s ‘cause it’s gone numb.”

 

Bucky didn’t answer, ripping open the back door with his metal hand instead.  Ryan heard metal pinging to the ground behind them as he ran them up the stairwell, steps echoing off the concrete.

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

“Steve, I will tie you the fuck down if I have to – not a word,” Sam added, jabbing a finger for emphasis as Clint opened his mouth in glee.

 

“Kinky,” Natasha said in Clint’s place, eyes glinting.  Steve and Sam rolled their eyes in tandem, until Natasha shoved Steve back by his injured side.

 

“Nrgh – Nat - !”

 

“Sit.  Sam, we’ll watch him, go to Ryan.”

 

“Don’t tear the stitches!” Sam ordered, gathering up the last of the first aid kit strewn about the hallway and hurrying toward the stairwell.  It slammed open before he reached it, Bucky sprinting in with Ryan in his arms.

 

“Buck – !“

 

“Left shoulder’s dislocated,” Bucky said over Steve, quickly but carefully lying Ryan on the ground as Sam knelt beside them.  Ryan was white as salt, breathing sharp through the pain.  Bucky didn’t look much better, and Steve rushed to their side in an instant.

 

“Alright, Ryan, I’m gonna stretch your arm out so I can realign the joint with the socket.  It’s gonna hurt, but it’ll be over fast,” Sam said, moving her arm as he spoke.  Grabbing her free hand, Steve caught her eyes, red-rimmed with tears.

 

“Look at me,” he said quickly, “take a deep breath, and – “

 

A small cracking sound, and Ryan gasped, gripping Steve’s hand.  Then, she blinked, a surprised smile spreading across her face.  “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said, grinning at Sam, but he quickly shook his head.

 

“It will.  You can’t use it for a few days or you risk permanent joint damage.”  He finished by wrapping her up in a sling, left arm tight against her chest.  “I know that’s your dominant arm, but do your best with your right, okay?  You and Steve both need to take it easy.”

 

At that, Ryan’s eyes went wide, whipping her head back to Steve.  “Shit, I – you got shot, are you okay?!  Why are you even up, should we go to a hospital – “

 

Steve couldn’t help it.  He chuckled, harder when she glared at him, and leaned in to kiss her forehead.  “I’m fine, _a ghrá_.  The stitches will heal by tomorrow, the rest by next week.”

 

“Let me see,” she demanded anyway, rucking up his shirt on the left side and carefully peeling back the bandage.  She blanched a little at the stain of red on white gauze, but nodded approvingly at the neat line of stitches.  “Okay.”

 

“Glad you approve,” Sam said, trying and failing to stay straight-faced.  Clint was sniggering a little, and Nat wore a tiny, indulgent smile. 

 

Ryan’s glare rounded on them.  “I lived on the streets without health insurance for most of my adult life.  If this happened to me, I’d have been dead.  I don’t fuck around with injuries.”

 

That sobered everyone up.  Sam started packing up the med supplies, Clint and Nat talking in low tones down the hall.  Steve opened his mouth, meaning to ask her what had happened to her arm, then frowned.  “How did you know where it was?”

 

“I – we felt it,” she muttered back, reaching over her torso with her arm.  “When it happened.  I guess that’s a thing, now.”  Then, she frowned back at him.  “Did you not feel anything when Bucky fell off the roof?”

 

“He WHAT?!”

 

Steve leapt to his feet, eyes wide with horror as he searched out his other mate.  Bucky was leaning against the wall next to the stairwell door, still looking a little too pale, and Steve was at his side in an instant.  “What happened?!’

 

“’M fine,” Bucky muttered in answer.  He glanced at Ryan, then dropped his eyes.  “She jumped after me.  Saved me.”

 

Steve closed his eyes, world tilting under his feet.  The last time his mate had fallen…

 

He pressed his forehead to Bucky’s, breathing in his scent, and felt Bucky do the same, lifting his hands to cup his mate’s cheeks.  “You’re okay,” he whispered, half a question and half its answer, and Bucky nodded against him.  “You’re okay.”

 

Then, he turned and marched back to Ryan, sweeping her off the floor and into his arms, hugging tight as he could without hurting her arm.  “You’re terrified of heights, and you jumped ten stories without a second thought for him,” he said, shaking his head.  “God, but I love you.”

 

“Alright, touching as this is, we’ve gotta get a move on,” Sam interrupted then, and Steve glared at him.  Sam raised his hands in innocence.  “We’re in an apartment building, for god’s sake, Tony can’t scramble the phone and internet much longer or we’ll have another fistfight on our hands.”

 

“Where are we going now?” Ryan asked, untangling herself from Steve.  He kept an arm around her waist, though, and beckoned Bucky over.  To his surprise, Bucky came to his other side at stiff attention, out of reach of Ryan and barely in reach of him.   

 

“Not my party to plan.  Steve?” Sam asked, but Nat interrupted before he could say anything.

 

“We’ve got a lead,” she said, zipping a cell phone onto the hip of her bodysuit.  “Special Agent Fitz was kidnapped, they think because of his proximity to Ryan last year.  JARVIS just located him in a defunct SHIELD base outside of Roswell.”

 

“The alien town?” Clint said in alarm, at the same time Steve said, “Kidnapped by whom?”

 

Nat shrugged to both questions.  “We’ll find out when we get there.  Ryan, you’ll stay with Darcy during the extraction.”

 

“Darcy’s here?” Ryan said, perking up as they gathered the last of their things.  “What about Jane and Thor, have we – “

 

“No word yet,” Clint answered.  “They’re missing out on a hell of a story, though.”

 

As they made their way back outside, Ryan shrugged.  “Well, New Mexico is where Thor first landed.  Maybe we’ll find them there.”

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

An hour or so later, Ryan and Darcy were catching up in the next row of seats, Sam was drooling on a headrest, Nat and Clint were flying the plane, and Steve took Bucky’s hand, squeezing it once.  “What else happened?”

 

Bucky closed his eyes.  He was normally a better actor, but his entire body felt like a stranger’s right then.  Steve needed to know, though.  “T’Challa found us.  Clint and I fought him off, but… he’s enhanced.  Somehow.”

 

Steve frowned, but nodded.  “And?”

 

“And… he threw me over.  Meant to kill me,” Bucky muttered darkly.  “Meant to kill Ryan, and Clint.  Only reason he didn’t was ‘cause Ryan caught me and Clint jumped, too.  Then, Clint went for Sam, and Cat-Man attacked again.  And…”

 

Steve nudged him to go on, but the words stuck in his throat.  It still felt surreal, like it might have been some crazy dream.  He’d seen Ryan’s powers, been in awe of them, but this?

 

“Buck.  You’re worrying me,” Steve muttered, squeezing his hand again.  “Did you… is he still alive?”

 

Bucky nodded numbly.  Then, he told Steve everything.  How he’d suddenly reached on instinct for a power he’d never had, how he hadn’t been able to control it without Ryan, how it felt coursing through him.

 

“It was amazing,” he finished.  “Scared the shit out of me, but it was like… I could do anything.”

 

He met Steve’s gaze, shaking his head.  Steve looked back at him, surprise given way to pensiveness.  “Could you do it again, you think?  Or was it just… an emergency?”

 

Bucky shrugged.  “Sure as hell not trying now.  Might bring the plane down.”   

 

As the words left his lips, the intercom systems came on.  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a Captain speaking, but we are beginning our descent into the middle of this _hot_ fucking desert.  Someone slap Sam awake so we can get outta here already.”

 

“I’m up, I’m up!”

 

Twenty minutes later, they’d landed on a quiet patch of sand, Bucky had jogged back from scouting the perimeter, and Steve finished giving the last instructions.  “Everyone clear?” 

 

At the chorus of yesses, he nodded.  “Good.  Ryan, watch the plane, this won’t take long.  We’ll be on the coms.  Darcy, don’t touch anything.”

 

“Hey!” Darcy complained, but Clint shushed her with a kiss.  Steve grabbed his shield, then pulled Ryan into a kiss himself, brief but hard. 

 

“Fifteen minutes, _ghrá mo chroí_.  Watch out for you and Darce.”

 

She nodded, giving him a small smile, then turned to look for Bucky.  But he was already with the others, walking away. 

 

Steve furrowed his brow, but quickly pressed a last kiss to Ryan’s cheek and jogged to catch up.  They had a man to rescue, and then they’d get some answers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus. Okay, I know this is short and pointless and terrible and it's literally been over three months, but... god. Writing is hard, life is hard, and I'm the worst. I swear to God I know where this is going, and next chapter is actually going to be action-y and more important, but this is the best I've got right now.


	11. In Which Imposter-Ryan is Revealed and Everything Gets 1000x Crazier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm not dead!

 

 

 

Ryan climbed back onboard the passenger plane only to find Darcy lounging in the pilot’s seat, feet on the dashboard, idly poking at some blinking buttons.

 

“Darce, we shouldn’t -- !”

 

“I’m just trying to turn on the comms!  Geez,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes.  “Tony’s not stupid enough to put a self-destruct button where I’d set it off.  Probably.”

 

Ryan sighed, taking the co-pilot’s chair.  “Here, I think Clint said it was – ”

 

She flicked up a metal switch down next to the pilot’s wheel, and tinny-sounding voices crackled through the speakers, static-y sounds in the background.  On the dashboard, a row of little red lights flicked on, labeled with each of their names.

 

“ _I hate sand.  It’s coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it gets everywh –_  “

 

“ _Quote the damn prequels one more time, man.  See what happens_.”

 

“ _Phantom Menace wasn’t_ that _bad_ ,” Clint said, and a chorus of probably-too-loud boos drowned him out.  Ryan and Darcy giggled, giving each other exasperated but fond glances.  “ _Alright, fine, most of it was, but the lightsaber battle at the end - !”_

 

“ _Quiet_ ,” Natasha hissed, and suddenly it was, only the fuzzy static breaking up the silence.  It stretched on and on, Ryan holding her breath unconsciously, until the sound of a metal door latch pushing open.  Then, Natasha whispered, “ _Clear_.”

 

“ _Clear_ ,” Steve echoed.  “ _North end is empty.  Visuals on target location?_ ”

 

“ _Negative to the east_ ,” Sam said.

 

“ _All quiet on the Western front_ ,” Clint added. 

 

“ _No scents.  No signs of recent use.  No power to emergency lights or exits,_ ” Natasha listed.  “ _Either we missed them, or Tony’s intel was inaccurate.”_  

 

“ _Hey, hey, wait – ooh, what’s behind door number one?_ ” Clint said, and a creaking sound followed through the coms.  “ _Creepy dark stairwell, naturally.  There’s a sub-basement, guys_.”

 

“ _In the middle of the desert?”_  Sam said.

 

Clint made a noncommittal noise, steps echoing down the stairs.  “ _You guys coming?”_

 

The others replied with yesses, and Ryan gripped the armrest of her seat, nerves sparking through her.  Were they always this nonchalant about facing an unknown number of potentially lethal enemies?

 

“Yes, he’s always like that,” Darcy said, and Ryan stared at her.  She shrugged, leaning back in her chair, one hand on her stomach and the other twirling a lock of her hair, entirely relaxed.

 

“I thought I was the mind reader.”

 

“Girl, it’s a damn good thing you don’t play poker.”  She sniggered at Ryan’s frown.  “Quit worrying.  You know how many batshit stories Clint and Nat’ve told me about their solo days?  Compared to Budapest, this is a joke.”

 

“Budapest again – Clint keeps mentioning it and then never telling me the story, what the hell happened there?”

 

Before Darcy could reply, Clint’s voice came through the speakers again.  “ _Found everyone.  Three doors off this main room, a dozen men, packing semis.  I’ll scout the others from above_.”

 

“ _Go, we’ve got eyes on them_ ,” Steve affirmed, and there was a small rustling noise as Clint climbed up into the ceiling, presumably.  Then, nothing. 

 

Ryan chewed on her lower lip, closing her eyes.  The Avengers might think this the mission-equivalent to casual Friday, but she didn’t agree.  It was horrible just listening, sitting there useless, forcing herself to joke with Darcy like they hadn’t almost been killed a few hours ago, like their loved ones weren’t strolling back towards the possibility again.  Listening to their family spy on a roomful of armed kidnappers, waiting for the right moment to fire their own guns and hope their aim was truer. 

 

It was insanity, was what it was.  A year ago – good god, was it just a year?  One measly flip through a calendar – last August at this time, she was still homeless.  The world had no idea she’d existed.  Had no chance to covet her power. 

 

Steve and Bucky.  They hadn’t  _been_  Steve and Bucky a year ago, just modern-day myths.  Heroes, capital H, keeping the world from imploding on itself time and again.  That was how she’d met them.  Random SHIELD-level threat of the month happened to be in Soho on her way into work. 

 

And then she’d been an  _idiot_.  Ran up to a roof while terrified of heights, planning on just peeking over the edge, clinging to the side, and knocking a robot or two away from someone in danger, hoping no one would notice a half-ton of scrap metal flying away on its own.  Then, Bucky – he was Sergeant Barnes, the ‘Winter Soldier’ then – had almost died, and she’d…

 

Her whole life hiding, running, and she’d thrown it away for him in an instant.  And in the same instant, thrown his lot in with hers.

 

God, everything that’d happened… Exposing her powers, presenting as an Omega, getting kidnapped, committing first degree murder, going on the run, coming back from the run, falling in love, mating, then almost getting her mates killed several times in the week they’d been mated.  She couldn’t make this stuff up. 

 

It wasn’t her fault.  _It_   _wasn’t_ , said a voice in her brain that sounded suspiciously like Pamela.  But all of it was in response to her.  Just because someone with her power existed. 

 

There had to be something she could do.  Something!  All this, all that she had and did and  _was_  hurt them…

 

_You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us.  You know that, right?_

 

Yeah, Bucky had said that.  Then, she’d raised her hand to use her powers against him, and he’d been  _terrified_.

 

Ryan blew out a breath, dropping her head to her hands.  If she hadn’t been the definition of an aimless millennial a year ago, she probably would’ve had a five-year plan.  This past year would not have been on it.

 

“Ryan.  Chill.”  The tone was much nicer than the words as Darcy laid a hand on her shoulder.  “I know you’ve almost died, like, a  _lot_  in the past few days, but c’mon.  They know the plan, and the backup plan, and the emergency plan, and the backup-emergency plan.  This is routine.”  Dropping her voice to a murmur, she added, “You can’t let the worry win.  Trust me, it’ll kill you.” 

 

“I know, I know, it’s just – they told me to stay, I’m going to stay, but I should be there!  What if whoever it was that has my powers – “

 

“Imposter-Ryan,” Darcy inserted, and Ryan huffed a laugh.

 

“Fine, Imposter-Me – what if she’s there, what if she’s behind this too?  It’s too dangerous, she could – “

 

She cut off, voice choking in her throat.  She couldn’t say it out loud, wouldn’t give the horrifying possibility form.  Her breath grew shorter and faster, panic mounting under her skin.  They had to make it, she told herself.  They had to.

 

Then, Darcy’s arms wrapped around her, and Ryan stifled a sob.  “I – I’m sorry,” Ryan breathed, “I just – I’m so scared, Darce, everything just keeps getting worse – “

 

“Shh, shh,” Darcy hummed, rocking her gently back and forth.  “Hey.  I get it, okay?  I got you.”

 

After a moment, Ryan managed a deep breath.  She straightened up, and Darcy squeezed her once and let go.  “I’m sorry,” Ryan said again, and Darcy shook her head.

 

“Don’t, we’re cool.  And hey, I’m panicking a little too, inside,” she admitted, flopping back in her seat, crossing her arms over her stomach.  “I just have more practice hiding it.”

 

Ryan shook her head.  “Does it ever get better?”

 

Smiling sadly, Darcy shook her head back.  “We just get better at dealing with it.”

 

Suddenly, the speakers crackled to life again, Clint’s voice coming through in a whisper.  “ _Confirmed visuals on the target.  One guard in the room, two more outside_.”  After a second, he added, “ _Target needs immediate medical attention_.”

 

“ _Copy.  Mobilize strike plan Alpha, on my mark_ ,” Steve replied, and Ryan held her breath.  “ _Three, two –_  “

 

“ _Wait!_ ” Bucky hissed.

 

Everything went silent.  Ryan froze on the edge of her chair, leaning in toward the speaker.  Her hands white-knuckled the armrests, leather denting under her grip.  The only sound was her heartbeat thumping in her ears.

 

“ _Shit – Steve, Ryan followed us!_ ” Bucky whispered furiously, and Ryan drew back, stunned.  She whipped around to Darcy, who looked just as confused.  “ _It’s her scent, she’s coming down the stairs – Nat, fall back and –_   _!_ “

 

_“Bucky!_ ” Her own voice came through the speakers, and Ryan’s jaw dropped.  It was high and sickly sweet and far, far too loud.  “ _I missed you!”_

 

Bucky made a strangled shushing noise.   _“Ryan, what the_ fuck _are you doing – !“_

 

In a flash, Ryan rocketed to her feet, throwing open their bond.   _BUCKY!  THAT’S NOT ME!_

 

Heart-stopping dread, then Bucky slammed his end shut.  “ _Omega One, on scene!  All teams –_  “ 

 

“ _Zhelaniye_.”

 

An alarm blared in the background, shots fired, Steve’s voice was shouting something, the others yelling back, but Imposter-Ryan drowned it out, speaking right into Bucky’s earpiece.  “ _Rzhavyy.  Semnadtsat'.”_

 

“Wh – what’s she saying, what – !"

 

Ryan whirled around to Darcy, her face a mix of shock and confusion.  “It’s Russian,” Darcy said quickly, “she’s – but it’s nonsense – "

 

A strangled yell, lanced with pain, ripped through the comms.   _“Bucky!_ ” Ryan shouted, “Bu - !”

 

“ _Rassvet.  Pech'.  Devyat', dobroserdechnyy_.”

 

Bucky screamed, a long, guttural cry, and Ryan’s knees went weak.  She clutched at the pilot’s chair, a hand clapped to her mouth.  Darcy grabbed at her arms, face white with fear as she held her up. 

 

“Daybreak?” she muttered, “furnace, nine – I don’t get it, she’s not saying anyth – !"

 

“ _Please_ ,” Bucky plead in a whisper, voice hitching.  “ _Don’t_.”

 

A heartbeat’s pause.  Then, “ _Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu_.”

 

“Bucky!” Steve screamed, sounds of a gunfight in the background.  He grunted, a yelp and heavy thump coming after.  “Buck - !”

 

“ _Gotov k vypolneniyu_.”

 

His voice was flat, cold.  Dead.  Ice flooded Ryan’s veins.  Somehow, on some deep, instinctual level, she understood. 

 

That wasn’t his voice.  It was the Soldier’s.

 

“No,” Steve breathed, and the horror in the word stopped Ryan’s heart.

 

She turned to Darcy, ears ringing.  “What did he say?”

 

Darcy stared helplessly back, naked fear in her eyes.  “Ready to comply.”

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

The first gunshot rung outside, and the guard inside perked up instantly.  “Oh,  _hell_ ,” Clint breathed.  Then, in one motion, he shut off his comms, leapt down through the ceiling tile, and swung a kick into the guard’s neck.

 

An ugly snap, and the guard crumpled to the floor, gun clattering uselessly.  Across the room, Fitz jerked his head up, eyes dazed and blinking away the blood trickling from his forehead.  Red stained his nose and mouth, but he still tugged weakly at his ropes as Clint sprinted over.

 

“Hey, I got you, don’t move,” Clint ordered, slicing through the ropes with the tip of an arrow.  As soon as he was freed, Fitz slumped down, and Clint deftly caught him to keep from breaking his nose any further.  “C’mon, we’re blowing this shithole.”

 

“Ch-charming expression,” Fitz gasped, and Clint chuckled humorlessly.

 

“Yeah, Coulson said you were a smartass,” he said, heaving Fitz up into a fireman hold.  “You and your mate.  Let’s get you back to her, huh?”

 

He jabbed at his comms with one hand, hoisting Fitz a little higher.  “Target secure – someone clear me a route!”

 

“ _Copy, northwest exit_ ,” Natasha replied.  A quick  _shink!_  of metal, and a man shouted in pain both in Clint’s ear and outside the door.  “ _Cap and Sarge are on Omega One, evacuate on my mark.  Sam, get the other exits blocked.  Also, on your nine_.”

 

“ _Thanks!”_   Two more thuds, and Clint quickly counted in his head over the gunshots still ringing.  Three by the stairs, two by the cell, the loner pacing between, another pair –

 

Bucky’s voice suddenly screamed, deep and visceral, and it chilled Clint to the bone.  Steve was yelling for him, drowning out – was that Russian?  He could barely make anything out now, bullets and screams and bangs a symphony of chaos in his ears. 

 

Fitz’s breath stuttered, gasping wetly, and Clint groaned.  Fuck it, this guy was gonna die if he waited any longer.  “Nat, emergency plan epsilon, now!” he shouted, and busted through the cell door.

 

“Kid, hold your breath!” he shouted, then tore forward into a plume of thick, pungent smoke.  His eyes and lungs burned, forcing him forward as the rest of the rent-a-cops choked and wheezed behind him.  Through the comms, Sam and Nat started coughing, too, and Clint forced his feet into double-time up a staircase.

 

Then, a hard kick through an old door, and he burst out into daylight and fresh air.  Fitz’ ragged breaths echoed through the empty atrium, metal crossbeams higher than a cathedral above the long, white, dusty room.  A wall of windows faced south, heat rolling off the desert in waves.  Inside, it had to be a hundred degrees, but no one was shooting at them, so Clint was content for the moment.

 

“Alright,” he panted, “alright, okay. We’re good for now.  Target clear!”  He carefully lowered Fitz to the floor.  “What’s broken?  Missing any digits?”

 

“All – all present,” Fitz said weakly.  His breath gurgled as he spoke, and Clint gave him a quick glance over, leaning his ear against the man’s chest.

 

“Yeah, that’s not ideal,” he muttered, sitting back up and reaching for a pocket knife.  He ripped a few swaths out of their ruined shirts, long and thin.  His own body ached, lungs and eyes burning from Nat’s smoke bomb as he tied bandages around the cuts on Fitz’ head.  “You’re probably bleeding internally even more than externally, which sucks.  But just stay awake for me, okay?  We’ll fix you up in no – “

 

A whooshing sound, and suddenly Clint was flying a dozen feet back.  He landed on his back with a jolt, bouncing and rolling to a graceless stop. 

 

He groaned in agony, but leapt to his feet.  Across the room, a man – no, a boy, a teenage boy with silver-white, wavy hair and a shit-eating smirk looked back at him.  Then, he disappeared in a blur, and Clint was airborne again.

 

The second landing hurt even worse, but Clint managed to get upright again, legs shaking.  Shit.  This was the last thing they needed.  He grabbed for his bow, searching frantically.  The boy was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Guys!” Clint said through gritted teeth.  “There’s two of them, he’s got super speed – !“

 

A rush of silver, and Clint closed his eyes.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

_No._

 

Sheer horror rooted her to the spot.  It was her worst nightmare, come back to life. 

 

Bucky was gone. 

 

Another light on the control panel flicked off.  Steve had switched off his comms, but by force or by choice, she didn’t know.  Natasha and Sam’s voices kept talking, but she could barely hear, until their lights switched off, too.

 

Then, Darcy shook her so violently she almost fell over.  “HEY!”

 

“What?!” she shouted, latching onto the pilot’s chair to catch her balance.  Her mind reeled as it snapped back to reality, Darcy grabbing at her shoulders.

 

“What the fuck are you waiting for?!  Go!”

 

Ryan’s head snapped to the cockpit door, flung open to the desert sands.  Then, Steve last words to her resounded in her head.  She turned back to Darcy.  “No.”

 

Darcy gaped at her.  “ _No?_   The fuck do you mean, ‘no’?!  Imposter-you is out there, she’s – “

 

“Steve ordered me to keep you safe!” Ryan yelled, and with a glowing hand, she slammed the cockpit door shut.  Darcy jumped and screamed.  “The last time I didn’t listen, Bucky almost died!”

 

“They’re all gonna die if we don’t fucking do something!”

 

“I have to keep you safe!”

 

Darcy growled in frustration.  “Then do your mind-telepathy-whatever thing!  Find out what’s happening!”

 

“I can’t, if I distract Steve or Bucky – “ 

 

Darcy made a break for the door, but Ryan shoved past her, blocking her way.  “You just told me to trust them!  They have a plan, if we get in the way – “

 

“ _Guys_!” Clint’s voice rung out over hers, his comm light blinking back on.  To Ryan’s horror, the rest of the lights stayed dark.  They were the only ones listening.  “There’s two of them,  he’s got super speed – aagh!”  

 

Clint’s comm light went out.

 

Darcy paled white as salt, then clutched at Ryan’s forearms, nails digging into her skin.  “Ryan, please, please, I’m begging you – “

 

“I can’t,” Ryan gasped, shaking her head, “I promised, I promised them I’d keep you sa – “

 

“ _I’m pregnant!”_

 

And suddenly, like running into the eye of the storm, everything went still.  Ryan stared at Darcy, strangely sedate as Darcy shook her, tears pouring down her face.

 

“I’m pregnant, they don’t even know yet – I can’t do this without them, please,  _please, you have to go…”_

 

Darcy’s words drowned into silence in her ears, like slipping underwater.  Ryan blinked once, mind and body swimming. 

 

Darcy was pregnant.

 

Suddenly, the world zoomed back into focus, and all of Ryan’s fear dissipated like a puff of smoke.  In its place, cold fury, strong as a glacier, set into her bones.

 

No one was taking her family away.  Not again.

 

“ _Stay here_ ,” she said, her voice an unfamiliar growl.  Then, the cockpit door burst open on its own, and in the next second, she was sprinting across desert sand, a lone, abandoned building set in her sights.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

In the second before his mate rushed to kill him, Steve switched off his comms.  Ryan shouldn’t have to hear that again.

 

Bucky was the best fighter he knew besides Natasha, but Steve could see his moves from a mile away by now.  He dodged a lunge for his throat, dancing lithely away.  Bucky was stronger, but Steve was faster.

 

It didn’t tear at his soul this time, seeing Bucky’s dead eyes, the murderous intent in every move.  Jesus, Mary and Joseph, was he getting used to this?  That was the truly sickening thought.  He didn’t know why it was happening this time, but he still knew what to do.

 

_Bucky_ , he thought, pounding on the door to his mind across their bond.  He caught Bucky’s fist, twisting it away from his gut.   _Mo anamchara, it’s me.  Fight it!_     

 

A throw turned into a flip, spinning back into a kick that landed on Steve’s solar plexus.  He groaned in agony, but held his ground by sheer force of will.  All the while, in the corner of his eye, the girl who wasn’t Ryan watched them curiously.   _She’s not stronger than you, Buck!  You’ve beaten this before!_

 

Sweat poured down his back as he moved faster than humans should, leading Bucky away from the fight by the prison cell.  This was his job, the others had theirs.   _Bucky.  I love you.  Ryan loves you._

 

He couldn’t get through.  The door remained firmly shut, Bucky’s mind closed to him.  Well, he always had a thick head, Steve thought miserably, and in the next moment, he socked Bucky across the jaw.

 

Bucky paused for a millisecond.  Then, with a furious roar, he tackled Steve to the ground, readying a punch.

 

Until, miraculously, he stopped. 

 

Steve’s heart leapt.  He met Bucky’s eyes, inches from his own, but they were a blank, brown slate, flat and empty. 

 

“Ugh,” Not-Ryan suddenly groaned.  “Never mind, I’ll do it.  Go help my brother, I’ll take care of him.”

 

_Her brother?_

 

Instantly, Bucky jumped to his feet and sprinted away, and in the next moment, Steve was after him.  Then, his limbs froze in place, encased in a familiar blue light.  Imposter-Ryan’s footsteps came from behind him, and he roared aloud like a lion, struggling against her hold.

 

Then, in another miracle, he broke free. 

 

His left foot tore forward, but the rest moved sluggishly, like swimming in wet cement.  A frustrated shout, and Imposter-Ryan came into view, her eyes and hands glowing, fingers twisting and clawing.  Her face was twisted up as well, sweat beading on her forehead in concentration.

 

She was weak.  Ryan could hold an entire building aloft, and she couldn’t even -

 

In a flash of inspiration, he started laughing.  Not-Ryan’s face turned red with rage, a blinding flash of light following.  Steve let it pass over him, then redoubled his efforts.  He muscled through another few, slow steps, and felt her hold on him weaken even further as he laughed louder.  He was only feet away from her now.

 

“You’re nothing,” he said, grinning fiercely.  “Ryan can move  _mountains._ You can barely hold me down.  She’d stop you in a heartbeat.”

 

Not-Ryan’s eyes narrowed.  Then, with a twist of her hands, their light slithered towards him in a glowing mist.  Blue flooded his vision, and suddenly, the world melted away into blackness.

 

Then, he blinked, and Peggy Carter stood smiling in front of him.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

There was a door wide open on the first side of the building she saw.  Ryan sprinted inside, cheat heaving, then skidded to a stop.  There were no lights on, and her vision was blinded green from the brightness outside.  She blinked rapidly, feeling her way inside along a wall.

 

Then, on the other side, she heard a nasty thump, followed by a pained yell.  She whipped her head around, searching for a door out of the hallway, but there was none in sight. 

 

Fuck it, she thought.  With a furious shout, she thrust out her hand, and the wall blasted outward, rubble and dust flying forward as she rushed inside. 

 

She was in a humongous room, lined with windows on one side, a myriad of doors heading to who-knows-where branching off everywhere else.  The ceiling was yards overhead, crisscrossed with naked metal beams and pipes.  And a dozen feet across the hardwood floor, Clint was on all fours, spitting blood onto the ground.

 

“Clint!” she screamed, rushing for him, but he whipped his head around, eyes wide in terror.

 

“Don’t!”  He held out one hand, looking frantically around and jumping to his feet.  “Get back, he’ll – “

 

A silver-white blur rushed past her, and before she could so much as blink, Clint threw himself to the side.  As he fell, he whipped out his bow and loosed an arrow in one motion. 

 

A scream of pain, and the blur focused into a boy, pale as a ghost but for the scarlet blood dripping down his gray shirt, an arrow wedged into his shoulder.  There was a matching wound on the opposite side, still dripping blood.

 

With another scream, he wrenched the arrow out, spraying red onto the ground as Clint readied another shot, this time directly at his chest.

 

“No!” Ryan shouted, instinct taking over, but Clint didn’t hesitate.

 

“Trust me!” he yelled, and shot.

 

It was a millisecond too late.  The boy’s eyes widened, and he whooshed away, a blast of wind blowing across Ryan’s sweating skin as he disappeared.  The arrow thudded into the wall right where he’d been standing.

 

Clint whirled back around.  “Darcy?”

 

“She’s fine,” Ryan said quickly, and Clint sighed in relief.  Then, to her surprise, he smiled crookedly at her.  His teeth were bloody, but his eyes were relieved. 

 

“Nice acting,” he said, “really sold it.  C’mon, that should scare him off for now, we need to get Fitz out of here.”

 

Ryan blinked, then rushed forward after him.  “You weren’t – “

 

“He was a kid.  I wouldn’t,” Clint interrupted, bending to check the man’s vitals.  Ryan got a look at his face, and her stomach jolted.  Agent Fitz was barely recognizable, almost every inch purpled or cut or bleeding.  “Shit, my comm’s gone, where - ?”

 

“There,” Ryan said, spotting it in the middle of the room.  “Clint, where are the others?”

 

“No clue,” he said, heaving Fitz into his arms.  “I’m extraction, they’re defense.”  The words were callous, but his eyes shone with worry when he turned back to her.  “Take the comm.  Be smart.  Stay safe.  I’ll come back when he’s stable.”

 

She nodded once, and he took off for the hole she’d made in the wall.  She ran the other way, scooping up the comm and heading for the door into the dark. 

 

Before she reached it, though, footsteps pounded up the stairs beyond.  Out of the darkness, a metallic shine, and Bucky rushed out like thunder rolling from a storm.

 

His eyes met hers.  For half a second, he considered her, almost seeming confused.  Then, he dashed past at superhuman speed, aimed for where Clint had just disappeared.

 

Pain lanced through her heart.   _Oh, god, Bucky_ , she thought desperately.   _I’m so sorry._

 

Then, she raised a hand, and he froze in place, caught in a dim blue glow.  She ran to his side, taking an immobile hand in her own.  With her other hand, she reached up, cupping one cheek.  Softly, she turned his face to hers.  His eyes were blank, not a scrap of recognition, and a piece of her heart shattered like dropped glass.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she said aloud this time.  Then, as gently as she could, she opened his mind to hers. 

 

What she found made her stomach drop.  His whole mind was cold, dark like the deepest night of winter, empty as a barren tundra.  Blank, emotionless, ready to hear and obey.  Not a shred of the Bucky she knew and loved.

 

No.  That was impossible.   _You’ve beaten this before_ , she thought desperately, the words echoing across the bond.   _I don’t want to force you, I swore I’d never do that!_    _Come on, fight it!_  

 

The slightest flicker of light, golden and warm, like a single sunbeam before dawn.   _Yes,_  Ryan thought, squeezing her eyes shut,  _come on!_     

 

A memory of pain, soul-rending and endless, flitted like a shadow across his mind.  The light flickered, recoiling from it, and sank away.   _No, no_ , please, Ryan thought, and in sheer desperation, she stood on her toes, pulling him in close. 

 

“ _Please, come back to me_ ,” she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.

 

Suddenly, the golden light burst, dawn breaking into day.  Bucky gasped, then shouted in pain, struggling against her hold.  She released him instantly, jumping back, and he fell to his knees, clutching his head.  She felt his pain across the bond, like electric shocks to the brain, and she dropped to her knees as well, laying her hands over his as he clutched at his head.

 

“Shh, it’s okay.”  She sent her sheer relief across the bond, pulling the pain back towards her instead.  It flowed across her in excruciating waves, and she grit her teeth, eyes watering.  A small cry escaped her, and Bucky’s eyes flew up, searching her. 

 

“Is – it’s you,” he said, hesitantly, heartbreakingly unsure.  “You’re not…?”

 

Wordlessly, she held up her left hand, the vibranium band shining in the sunlight. 

 

The next second, she was engulfed in his embrace.  He scented deep at her neck, a tumult of emotions flooding his scent and mind.  Fear, relief, pain, joy, and she only pulled him closer, bodies and minds entwining until she couldn’t tell where they each began and ended.

 

They stayed there for a little while, drifting together, until Ryan snapped back into herself at the feel of his lips on her neck.  He pressed against her mating bond, his mark he’d left on her, lingering there for a long moment.

 

“ _You’re mine_ ,” he assured himself, both aloud and in their minds, and Ryan chuckled in relief.

 

“ _Always_.”  She huffed another laugh, nuzzling into his hair.  “ _’Til the end of the line, right?_ ”

 

“Oh my  _god_.  You two are disgusting.”

 

Bucky stiffened up.  In his mind, a horrible flash of fear sent Ryan reeling.  Fear from her own voice spoken at them, at what the voice had done to him. 

 

Never again.  This would  _never_  happen to him again. 

 

Ryan took a deep breath.  She whispered in his mind,  _Go find Steve.  I’ll take care of this._

 

A moment’s pause, a hundred reactions considered.  Then, amazingly, he said,  _Okay_.

 

Half a second later, Bucky sprinted full-speed away.  Ryan looked up to see her mirror image – oh god, she even had her new haircut, how did she know? – startle as Bucky flew past her.

 

“Not so fast,” Not-Ryan said, raising a hand.  “We’re not – what the - ?”

 

She tugged her shoulder upward, but her arm was stuck in midair, glowing bright blue.  Her head whipped around to Ryan, but she was smirking, not a hint of fear in her face.

 

“Cute trick.  Pity I can do it too –  _mmph!_ ” 

 

Ryan stood up, arms loose at her sides.  She didn’t have to even twitch a finger to clamp Not-Ryan’s mouth shut.  It took no effort to hold her as she started to struggle in earnest, feet scraping against the floor against the invisible vice trapping her arm.  Protests stayed muffled behind her frozen jaw.

 

Slowly, Ryan walked forward.  She was halfway across the gargantuan room.  At her first footfall, echoing over the hardwood, a trace of fear came over Not-Ryan’s face.

 

“Do you know what I did,” Ryan said quietly, “to the last person who did that to Bucky?”

 

By the look in her eyes, the redoubled effort to wrench her arm free, Not-Ryan did.  Her breath came faster, eyes darting to the darkened stairwell behind her. 

 

“Tell me,” Ryan said, and released her mouth.

 

The second she was freed, Not-Ryan spat, “Fuck you!  You and those fucking murderers you – “

 

Ryan flicked a finger, and her mouth snapped shut.  “Don’t make me force you.”

 

This time, when she was freed, Not-Ryan laughed, mocking and cruel.  “You?  Please - when you  _killed_  him,” she said, rolling her eyes, “the man who raped you, tortured you, you  _wept_.  You wept like a weak child!  You ran and hid like a coward!”

 

“Good,” Ryan murmured.  “You can listen.”

 

She had almost reached her now.  Just a few steps away, she stopped.  Not-Ryan eyed her suspiciously, going still.

 

“I’m going to release you in a second,” Ryan said.  “You’re not going to run.  You’re not a coward, right?” 

 

She threw the word back at her like a stone at glass.  Not-Ryan glared daggers, but stayed silent.  “Good.  Do your best, then.  I want a fair fight.”

 

Not-Ryan’s eyes went wide.  Then, the blue light around her arm blinked away, and the limb dropped to her side.

 

Quick as a whip, she flung out both arms, wrists and fingers twisting.  Ryan felt her limbs freeze stiff, then her whole body yanked forward like a puppet.  It was beyond surreal.  She’d never experienced telekinesis from this side before.

 

She could feel it, though, the power being used against her.  It was like a humming buzz over her skin, faint but insistent.  With a thought, she broke it.

 

Not-Ryan yelled in frustration, and Ryan saw her next move in her mind before it happened.  She stayed firmly on the ground as Not-Ryan tried to throw her aside, wrenching Not-Ryan’s arm back with a nod of her head.

 

“You should think quieter,” Ryan said, releasing her.  “You’re shouting at me.”

 

“Shut up!” 

 

Ryan blocked the same move again, even easier that time.  “Why?” she said.  “Bucky, Fitz, all those people - why do this?”

 

“Because the world is better without them in it!”  Not-Ryan paused, panting for breath.  Sweat glistened on her forehead, eyes still burning blue.  “All of them, worshipping you monsters – that’s what you call yourselves, the  _Avengers_.  All the lives you took, I’ll avenge myself!”

 

Then, she did something Ryan didn’t expect.  She spread her hands wide, light gathering in a ball of twisting, building energy, until she threw her arms forward and shot it straight at Ryan’s chest. 

 

It slammed into her like a heavyweight bag rammed into her chest.  Ryan hurtled back, skidding across the floor.  She tumbled and slid to a stop, heaving for breath.

 

Not-Ryan crowed in triumph.  “Finally –  _vstavay tut vzhe, vona_ …” 

 

She’d turned around, yelling down the stairwell, but trailed off as Ryan started to laugh. 

 

Ryan clutched at her aching chest, a stitch in her side.  Gasping laughter burst out of her, belly-deep as her breath caught up.  She rolled to her side, still shaking as she stood.

 

“That’s – that’s  _it?_ ” she choked out, dissolving into laughs again.  “Your big, grand move?  You get me off guard, you have one perfect, clear shot, and you just – “

 

She mimicked Not-Ryan’s gesture, still laughing under her breath.  “Just whack me across the floor - for god’s sakes, Tony shot me with a repulsor beam!  SHIELD knocked me out with a sonic bomb!  I slashed my own arms open with a knife!  At least make it  _hurt!_ ”

 

She shook her head, meeting Not-Ryan’s wide, stunned eyes.  “Fuck it.  I’m done.”

 

And with one hand, she flung Not-Ryan back thirty feet and slammed her into the wall.  She hit with a sickening thud and slumped boneless to the ground. 

 

Then, like a hologram shorting out, her whole body flickered, then changed.  Ryan sucked in a breath.

 

Not-Ryan  _wasn’t_ , anymore.  In her place, a young girl, maybe just eighteen, lay crumpled on the floor.  Long chestnut hair spilled down a red jacket, the sleeves pushed up, the only color against her pale white skin.  Nails like talons were painted deep black, matching leather cuffs guarding her forearms.  A short, black dress and thigh-high black socks stuffed into combat boots covered her legs.

 

Before Ryan could take a step, she stirred, groaning low.  She clutched at the back of her head, deep brown eyes snapped up to Ryan’s.  Rage twisted her face into a snarl, and from her hands, scarlet light shone like a blood-red star.

 

“ _Wanda!”_

 

The silver-white blur returned, zooming to her side.  The boy, terrified face even paler, dropped to his knees beside her, but she pushed him aside.

 

“I’m fine!” she snapped, shoving his arm away.  She stood up, wobbling a little, and he grabbed her shoulders to steady her.  “Forget about me!  Kill her!”

 

A split-second hesitation, his eyes darting to Ryan’s, and Ryan saw the decision in his mind as soon as he made it.  He turned into a silver streak, rushing at her head-on, but Ryan’s wrist was already flicking to the side. 

 

_Bang!_

 

He slammed into the wall to her right, blasting another hole straight through.  It shook the entire room, glass wall quivering.  In the settling dust, he lay motionless atop a pile of drywall.

 

“ _Pietro!”_  the girl – Wanda – screamed, and the floor actually shook a little under Ryan’s feet, her eyes and hands flashing red.  She stilled it immediately, holding a hand out flat over the ground. 

 

“You – you – “

 

Wanda’s voice and hands shook with rage.  “You’ll pay for that, you fucking  _bitch!_ ”

 

With a guttural cry, she flung an arm behind her, the other reaching towards Ryan.  Ryan’s feet stuck fast, and the arrow sticking in the wall by the stairwell, Clint’s parting gift, wrenched itself free and flew straight at her chest.  Ryan diverted it upwards, and it zoomed up to the high, exposed ceiling.  With a resounding clang, it pierced through a pipe overhead, and a heavy spray of water downpoured on them both. 

 

Wanda tried to jump out of the way, but it was Ryan’s turn to hold her in place.  At her growl of annoyance, red-glowing hands still trying to hold Ryan still, Ryan half-smiled. 

 

“Nice trick,” she parroted, breaking her own feet free with a flick of her hand.  Her shirt and jeans were soaking through, water running down her hair, and she silently thanked Tony for the day he had JARVIS clean out the pool for her.  “My turn.”

 

She flung both arms out to the side, and all the water stopped in midair.

 

Wanda gasped.  Blue light flickered and danced through the room, reflected off her stunned face as if they were standing underwater.  Silence pressed in from all sides.

 

Then, the water rushed forward, trapping Wanda on all sides.  She tried to blast it back, but to no effect, not a drop diverted away.  A towering wave reached over her head, and Wanda screamed, throwing her arms up.  

 

Ryan twisted the water in flowing arcs, circling Wanda like a snake until she was caught in a rushing, raging sphere, glowing bright blue.  Wanda tried to blast it again, but it was even weaker this time.  Terrified screams were muffled, faint under the water’s roar. 

 

Then, Ryan clenched her hands to fists, and the water instantly froze to ice. 

 

She slowly lowered her arms.  Encased in the ice, Wanda pounded on the walls with her fists, mind gone blank with panic.

 

“ _Let me out!_ ” she screamed with muffled hysteria.  “ _Please, let me – let me out!”_

 

Ryan stared coldly back.  In the back of her mind, though, she was confused.  Wanda looked normal, no scarlet light - why wasn't she -- ?      

 

Then, from Wanda’s mind, the barest flash of a memory.  It felt long-repressed, horrifying, and Ryan startled at the image that flickered through.

 

A huge, gray missile, sitting in the living room of a half-destroyed apartment.  From under a bed, Wanda peeked out, but Pietro –  _her brother_ , the memory whispered – yanked her back, pulling her against his chest. 

 

On the missile’s side, painted blood-red, read the words  _Stark Industries_.  Wanda and Pietro lay trapped, huddled together, waiting for death.

 

"Incredible."

 

Ryan snapped back to reality, whirling around and raising a hand - only to find T'Challa on his knees a few steps behind her.  His clawed-gloved hands were spread wide and open, his bare head bowed.  His mask sat on the floor beside him.

 

"I beg your humble forgiveness," he said, and Ryan could only stare.  "I now see the truth.  And while you have earned the right to your kill, I ask you grant me the honor of avenging my father, so his spirit may find rest."

 

Her mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.  Behind her, Wanda redoubled her efforts, pounding and kicking, tears streaming down her face. 

 

"Wh - I - "

 

Then, an earth-shaking roar.  The ground rumbled, and shooting down from the sky came two humongous shafts of blinding white light, engulfing Wanda in the ice and Pietro slumped by the wall.  Ryan instinctively threw up her hands, a bright shield of blue light blocking her and T'Challa from a sonic boom, shaking the foundations of the building.  The light grew brighter and brighter, prisms of light erupting outwards until - 

 

In a flash, it vanished. 

 

Ryan lowered her hands, blinking away spots in her vision.  When her eyes cleared, Wanda and Pietro were gone.

 

"What the - "

 

She looked back to T'Challa, who looked only minimally less shocked than she.  "Did you do - ?"

 

"I have never seen technology or magic like that," he said, climbing to his feet.  He shook his head.  "I must go."

 

"Wait, where are you - ?"

 

It was too late.  In half a second, he took off for Ryan's hole-door and disappeared.

 

Well, then.  Ryan looked around the room in a daze.  Her ice sculpture was starting to melt, sunlight still streaming through the windows and reflecting off the puddles at her feet.  Her and Pietro's wall-holes stood empty, rubble strewn about the floor. Clint's arrow was still stuck in the ceiling.  And she stood in the middle of it all, alone and dripping wet, her entire world turned upside-down yet again.

 

Did he just say  _magic?_

 

As if summoned by the thought, a loud, metallic sparking sound ripped through the air.  A circle of bright copper-orange light appeared, geometric shapes and symbols twisting and glowing as it grew wider and wider.  Ryan threw her hands up again as it exploded into sparks, a wave of heat blowing across her skin.

 

When she looked up, where the light - portal? - had been stood a tall, muscular, dark-haired man in a dress.

 

"Goddammit!"  The man whipped his head around, searching the room.  Ryan blinked, then looked again.  It was a belted blue tunic, not a dress, but the silhouette wasn't helped by the dramatic red cape, bottom trailing by his feet and popped collar high as his cheekbones, covered in a dark goatee.  Around his neck hung a large gold amulet shaped vaguely like an eye.  "Where did you - "

 

Then, his gaze fell on Ryan, and he stopped in surprise.  "Who the hell are you?"

 

 Nope.  That was it.  She was done. 

 

With one hand, she shot him straight across the room into the wall.  He grunted on impact, and his eyes went wide as he struggled against her hold, tugging uselessly at the blue light encasing his wrists and feet.  For a split-second, his hands glowed green, but it fizzled out as Ryan forced them flat. 

 

"How - ?" he started, but Ryan shut his mouth, too.  She stomped across the room, footsteps echoing as she glared at his wide, shocked eyes.

 

"Who the hell are you," she shouted, stopping right in front of him, "what the hell was that, where the hell did you come from, and  _what the fuck is going on?!_ "  

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo, boy.
> 
> These last six-and-a-half months have just been so much, sometimes. In December, I found out my mom is sick, and it's the kind that's not going to get better. My depression has been a bit of a roller coaster, especially lately (side note: why the hell is anxiety a symptom of depression? Makes ZERO sense). Grad school is hard and busy (no duh, but true). I haven't really been taking care of myself and my life as well as I need to be, sometimes.
> 
> But, there has been good stuff, too. I finally saved up enough for a new computer, I'm looking into options to go back into therapy, I'm trying to eat better and exercise more. About a week ago is when I finally got any inspiration to actually start writing this chapter, and I stayed up for hours and hours, and it was actually fun again! It's about 85 degrees here today, and less than two weeks ago I was still scraping ice off my car, so the weather's taken quite a sunny turn. And the Red Sox have had the BEST season opening in the HISTORY OF THE RED SOX. (Even though they just got their butts handed to them tonight, but that's an outlier.)
> 
> So, all this is to say, I really wish this hadn't taken me half a year to put out. Thanks so much to anyone who reads this - it really means a lot, knowing something I made is actually out there doing just a tiny bit of good for someone else.
> 
> A few quick notes on the characters/events introduced here:  
> \- Wanda and Pietro are a bit younger and greener than they're portrayed in Age of Ultron, because I honestly thought they were pretty one-dimensional there for the most part. I'm writing them a little more wild, a little more scared, a little more visibly angry and emotional and broken to try and give their characters a bit more... well, character.  
> \- The dude at the end is Dr. Strange, just in case you haven't seen the movie and wouldn't know what the description meant!  
> \- I haven't seen Thor 3, Black Panther, or Infinity War, so I'm writing these characters based off of second-hand knowledge. Obviously this whole thing has my spin on it anyway, but I'll keep these guys as in-character best I can.
> 
> 'Til next time - I promise, it won't be 2019 until chapter 12!
> 
> (Also, I shamelessly stole Ryan's water trick from Katara's battle with Zuko in the Avatar: The Last Airbender season 1 finale. Check out this link, it's fucking badass: [x.](https://youtu.be/k6HOzBJobak))


	12. In Which Ryan Makes A New Friend, Part Two, and Bucky Does Something Reckless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My working title for this update was "Chapter Something: The Next One". Had a little bit of creative block hahaha

 

 

“Peg?”

 

It was a reflex, pointless.  She was unmistakable.  Pale, flawless skin shone white against that scarlet dress, the one she’d worn just for him that night in a bar in France.  Shining hair fell in soft chestnut waves, loose and natural across her shoulders.  Glittering brown eyes pierced through him, leaving him breathless.  

 

She smiled, the soft curve of red lipstick stretching to a fond grin, and the rest of the world fell away. 

 

Dreamlike, Steve stepped towards her, then broke into a run, tearing forward until he’d swept her into his arms.  She breathed in his scent, sighing happily, and her arms were solid around him, the lines of her body slotting perfectly against his.

 

“I’ve missed you, my darling,” she said, and Steve pulled back, cupping her cheeks in his hands.  Her scent was rosewater and starlight in June, filling his lungs as he stroked his thumb over her cheekbone in reverence.  He touched his forehead to hers, noses brushing once, twice.  She was so beautiful, so perfect he couldn’t even find the words.

 

“The war’s over,” she said.  She laid her hands on his chest, tracing the outline of the white star in the middle.  “We can go home now.”

 

“Home,” he breathed, and the next moment, their lips crashed together. 

 

Her arms looped around his neck, and he pulled her closer with a soft growl.  Her lips parted, and he deepened the kiss, chasing after every happy sigh, every soft moan.  She melted against him, and his heart burst with happiness.  This was all he’d ever wanted.  Peggy, right here in his arms, and –

 

“Steve!”

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

 

Bucky ignored the rumbling overhead, dust filtering down as the ceiling shook with impact.  His brain was still reeling, getting used to controlling his own limbs again, but he pushed past it.  Find Steve.  Get to Steve.  Ryan could handle it, she was fine.

 

He almost scoffed at the thought.  Nothing was _fine_.   

 

He still smelled the residual gas from Nat’s backup escape plan, burning and rancid, but his healing factor wasn’t for nothing.  He and Steve could sprint a mile of it and barely need a glass of water, even as he passed body after limp, unconscious guard’s body as he ran.  So when he rounded the final corner to find Steve prostrate on the ground, his heart nearly stopped.   

 

He dropped to his knees beside him, shaking Steve’s shoulders.  No response, but he was breathing, no sign of head injury.  “Steve, hey, wake up!”

 

Still nothing.  It looked like he was only asleep, chest rising and falling naturally, face smooth and relaxed.  Bucky took his pulse, felt his temperature, the vitals he could read, and all were at Steve’s normal.  No reason to be unconscious.  He shook him harder, yelling louder.  “Steve!”

 

Steve’s head flopped uselessly to the side.  Fuck, the girl – Not-Ryan – she’d done something to him, Bucky thought helplessly.  She had Ryan’s powers, or something close – she could’ve controlled him, ordered him to sleep or put him in a coma forever – hell, she could’ve trapped him awake inside his own head, unable to move or speak or hear – his mind could be locked away, his empty body left behind.  Who the hell knew what was possible?  They were far, far past any known medicine or science.  Ryan had never tried to hurt anyone, it’d never mattered before.

 

With that thought, a reckless dangerous idea popped into his head.  Ryan wasn’t the only one with powers anymore.  He could try to undo it.

 

Logically, he knew Ryan should be the one doing this.  She had the closest thing to relevant experience.  Hell, he didn’t even know if their telepathic bond – plus his one-time telekinesis – meant he could do fuck all for Steve now. 

 

But if Ryan saw him like this, somehow couldn’t help him… she’d be devastated.  He had to try first.  He could at least shift the blame to himself, then.        

 

But if Not-Ryan got to him again while he was –

 

No.  He cut that what-if off at the knees.  Ryan had promised.  Guilt threatened to crash over him at the thought, but he shoved it aside.  After what he’d done today… it was about time he started trusting her. 

 

He shook his head.  Shit, this was dumb.  But when it came to his own safety, Steve was the patron saint of recklessness.  If he was awake, he’d approve. 

 

Suddenly, a crackle of static burst in his ear, and his comm came back to life, Clint’s voice coming through. 

 

“ _– secure and stable, ready for transport.  Repeat, target is ready for transport.  Can anyone read me?  Status update requested.  Over_.”

 

He pressed a hand to his ear.  “Barnes reporting in.  I’m with Steve.  Situation clear, no injuries.  Over.”

 

“ _Copy.  Natasha, Sam, do you read?_ ”

 

With that, Bucky turned off the comm and grabbed Steve’s hand in both of his, taking a deep breath.  He leaned in close, hovering just over Steve’s lips, as Ryan had done for him.

 

“Come back to us,” he whispered, and kissed him.  Then, he reached deep inside, to the very core of his being where he'd felt it before, and a soft, golden light glowed from his hands.  It grew slowly brighter as energy buzzed under his skin, sheer power flowing through his blood.  Carefully, he focused it on their bond, feeling it thrumming in time with his pounding heart.   

 

Here goes nothing, Bucky thought, and reached out to Steve. 

 

It was like trying to bust through a locked door, only to have it fall open under him.  Suddenly, he felt his mind, his awareness, his consciousness – _himself_ – pitching forward, and his verbal shout of surprise turned mental as he fell head-over-heels into Steve’s mind.

 

The world went dark for a split second, tumbling through nothingness.  Then, he was standing in a large, dimly-lit ballroom, dusty floors absorbing the yellow light of electric chandeliers overhead.  Cheap perfume and old booze and sweat and cigarettes muddied the air, so nostalgic he was almost dizzy with it.  A reddish haze hung in the air, down the stained oak bar with shining glass bottles and cheap wood stools, across the dance floor scuffed and dirty from thousands of stamping feet.

 

And in the middle of the floor stood Steve, dressed to the nines in an olive-green captain’s uniform, a half-dozen medals pinned on his breast.  His hair was shorter, combed neat to regulation.  His tie was loose, though, half undone in the grip of a perfectly manicured, red-nailed hand.  Steve’s own grabbed at the waist of a scarlet dress, his lips locked on Peggy Carter.

 

“Steve!”

 

 

* * *    * * *    * * *

 

 

The strange man didn’t answer her.  Instead, he lifted one eyebrow, eyes narrowing to a sarcastic glare.

 

Ryan bristled, hands flashing brighter.  Her patience had run out about three death attempts ago, and now some rando in a cape drops out of the sky and starts _sassing_ her?  “I’m not going to ask again - !”

 

“Mchm-hmm!” 

 

He interrupted with a pointed throat-clearing, redoubling his glare.  His eyes flicked around to the blue light covering his trapped limbs, then back to her, and it dawned on Ryan that she was still holding his mouth closed.

 

“O-oh.  Sorry.”  Her cheeks burned red, and the man rolled his eyes, sighing through his nose.  For a second, Ryan was so forcefully reminded of Tony that she almost laughed.  God, she hoped he was alright. 

 

She made to release the stranger’s mouth, then paused.  Wanda and Pietro disappear in shafts of white light, the king of Wakanda casually mentions believing in magic, then this guy pops through a glowing orange portal, dressed like – like some bizarre medieval cultist.  Maybe it was nuts, but letting the guy talk aloud struck her as possibly foolish.  With the day she was having, curses suddenly seemed about reasonable.

 

She looked him over again.  Jesus, that dark red cape-collar combo was dramatic as hell.  Below that, though, the blue tunic seemed oddly simple.  His hair and beard were neat, dark brown peppered with silver-gray, though his sharp, angular face still looked young enough, chin strong and eyes bright.  At first glance, he just looked eccentric, not dangerous.       

 

But she’d been in hiding long enough to know how deceiving looks could be.  And if she was being honest, something about that big, eye-shaped amulet, tarnished bronze strung low on his chest, made the short-buzzed hair on her neck stand straight up.

 

Alright.  His mind it was.

 

\- _don’t have time for this,_ _don’t know how you expect me to ANSWER when you won’t let me open my damn MOUTH_ -     

 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I should.”

 

His eyes snapped back to hers.  The tenor of his mind turned suspicious, and she was briefly surprised at how busy it felt under the surface where she listened.  Everything rushed a hundred miles an hour, building and overlapping - not in panic, or fear of her, but rather observing, analyzing, theorizing, planning.  It was a little like Bucky when they were in danger, all his training and skills as natural as breath.

 

No, that wasn’t quite it.  She’d only been in Tony’s mind once, briefly – that awful December night, when they’d once been enemies – but it felt like that.  To an outsider, chaos, but to him, it was just being himself, the smartest person in the room.

 

Well, damn.  If this guy was as smart as Tony, she was probably in trouble.

 

He leveled her with a calculating look.   _You’re reading my mind.  How?_

 

Before she could figure out any kind of answer, she sensed another consciousness nearby, familiar this time, and nearly slumped down in relief. 

 

“Clint!” she shouted, turning past the window-wall toward the hole where he’d disappeared.  The sun was at last starting to set, orange-pink beams spilling out across the desert sand.  “I’m still in here, I need your help!”

 

_Who - ?_

 

Clint sprinted in, bow in hand and mind alert.  A quick scan of the room, eyes landing on the ice-sphere, the new hole in the wall, and the trapped stranger.  He hurried to her side, checking her up and down.  The stranger watched them closely, his mind curious. 

 

“Alright, first thing,” Clint said, “are you hurt?”

 

Ryan shook her head, and he blew out a relieved breath.  Then, he yanked her into a hug, careful not to get in the way of her left hand, still held out and glowing blue.  “Thank god – Darcy's fine, everyone else is fine - I got ahold of them on the plane, they’re just cleaning up.” 

 

Ryan could’ve cried with relief.  They were okay, everyone was okay… 

 

_Alright, yes, this is very touching, can you let me go now?!_

 

Ryan ignored the stranger’s irritated thought, holding Clint tight with her free arm.  Then, he pulled back, frowning.  “You’re shaking real bad, c’mon – "

 

To her surprise, he sat neatly on the floor, cross-legged, and tugged her down next to him.  She landed with a heavy thud, legs and arms suddenly rubber, boneless with exhaustion.  She felt detached, brain both foggy with tiredness and racing with everything that’d happened.  Jesus, it seemed every time she finished her heat, she had to go on the run after.  That, hearing the mission go sideways, sprinting through a scorching desert, seeing Bucky like that, fighting in a hundred-degree room, that blow Wanda landed to her chest…

 

She slumped against Clint’s side, and he caught her left arm as it fell, its glow dimmed to almost nothing.

 

“Whoa, hey, you gotta keep holding him, can you do that?”

 

The stranger protested both in his head and aloud, both muffled sounds of annoyance, but Ryan nodded.  “I don’t need to use my hands.  It just helps, with the…” 

 

She waved vaguely, failing to string the words together.  She looked up at the stranger, dropping her head exhaustedly on Clint’s shoulder.  The stranger’s mind had gone quiet, watching them, but he suddenly looked concerned.

 

_Listen to me.  Focus on my voice, can you do that?  I need you to stay awake – slowly bend over, put your head between your legs –_

 

Blinking in surprise, Ryan felt a smile tug at her lips.  “I’m okay, I’m not going to pass out.”

 

“What?” Clint said quickly, grabbing her wrist.  “Your pulse feels fine – "

 

“No, he was worried,” she explained, nodding up at the stranger.  “I’m just tired, and it’s hot in here.”

 

“It’s the adrenaline crash, too,” Clint said, rubbing his hand comfortingly up and down her arm.  “You’ll be alright in a min – “

 

“OW!”

 

Clint barely touched her shoulder before Ryan sucked in a breath through her teeth, the exclamation bursting out before she could yank it back.  Her right hand flew to her left shoulder, suddenly almost spasming.  Shit, Sam said she needed to keep it in a sling for a good reason.  Hot spikes of pain felt like iron brands under her skin, and she gritted her teeth until they subsided.

 

Clint had straightened up in alarm, but now relaxed again, clicking his tongue in sympathy.  “Oh, yeah, I forgot.  Just breathe, you’ll be alright.  Adrenaline stops it for a bit, but dislocations hurt like a bitch.”  

 

The stranger made a loud sound in his throat, drawing their eyes back upwards.  _Idiot, she needs it wrapped, go get - !_

 

Ryan interrupted his thoughts with a frown.  “I’ll be fine, really.  And don’t call him an idiot.” 

 

Clint scanned the stranger up and down, seeming to fully take him in for the first time.  He raised an eyebrow, corner of his mouth quirking up.  “I might be an idiot, but you’re definitely a cultist, so potato-tomato.”  He shrugged, and the stranger simply rolled his eyes again.  “Alright, we’ll deal with this now.  Ryan, thirty-second recap.  Go.”

 

“Okay, um.  You left, and I was gonna go downstairs, but Bucky came.  He was still…”

 

Clint nodded, understanding, and she went on.  “I helped him snap out of it.  Then, Wanda – her name’s Wanda, my look-alike – she came.  Bucky went to find Steve, and Wanda and I… fought.”

 

Clint interrupted with a small laugh.  “Fought?  You went full North Pole Katara on her,” he said, nodding at the dripping ice sphere, puddles shining in the dying light.  “Damn, you’re badass.”

 

Ryan chuckled too, dipping her head.  “The fast guy – he’s Pietro, her brother.  He came, and… that happened,” she added, gesturing at the second hole in the wall, and Clint let out a whoop. 

 

“ _So_ badass.  Where are they now?”  

 

“Um...they were knocked out, then King T’Challa came – “

 

“ _What?!_ ”

 

“No, he – he apologized,” Ryan said, sounding disbelieving to her own ears.  Clint gave her a look, and she shrugged her good shoulder.  “I guess he saw the whole thing – I threw Wanda against the wall, and it was like a hologram, and then she didn’t look like me anymore.  He…”

 

She trailed off, T’Challa’s words finally setting in.  “He... asked if he could kill her.”

 

Clint inhaled sharply.  “Did he – “

 

“No, no – they… disappeared.  There was this bright white light, like tunnels, and they were just gone.  Then King T’Challa ran away, and… this guy appeared.” 

 

She looked up at the stranger again.  He’d listened intently to her story, thoughts gone silent.  He met her gaze, cool and appraising.  “I didn’t know if I should let him talk.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“’Cause… he literally appeared.  Like, out of thin air.  And I’m either going nuts, or…” 

 

The man didn’t react at all.  Ryan looked from him to Clint, who, to her relief, just shrugged.  “Alright.  Let’s get his story, then.”

 

“Wait,” Ryan said quickly, remembering.  “Agent Fitz, is he – “

 

Clint’s face fell.  “Not great, obviously, but I think he’s stable now.  JARVIS and Darcy are watching him.”

 

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife, flicking open the blade.  Ryan bit back a gasp, steeling herself.  It was fine, he wouldn’t actually –

 

Fear spread a cold numbness in her limbs.  No, he would.  If it would keep her and the others safe, he would.  He’d done it before, and worse.

 

No, no, this was wrong.  Her instincts were screaming at her to knock the blade away and run, get out of there –

 

The warm weight of a hand on her good shoulder, and her eyes snapped to Clint.  He stared back at her with dusty blue eyes, calm and steady and clear as a summer sky.  Silently asking her to trust him.

 

Her eyes flicked briefly to the stranger, then back to Clint.  She swallowed once, then nodded.  She did trust him.      

 

They turned together to the stranger.  It was odd, the two of them sitting on the floor, looking upwards at the man as Clint threatened him.  “You do anything I don’t like, you don’t like where this goes.  Ryan, keep him there, but let him talk.”

 

The instant his mouth could move, the man shouted, “Let me go!”

 

Clint didn’t so much as blink.  “That was your freebie.  Now – “

 

“I’m a doctor!  The man who’s hurt, I can help him!”

 

Ryan’s eyes widened.  She looked to Clint, who stared impassively back at the stranger.  “That would be useful.  Show me I can trust you, and we’ll see.”

 

“Clint – "

 

“I got this, Ryan.  I promise.”  He flashed her a small smile, then turned back to the man.  “Let’s start easy.  Name?”

 

To her surprise, the man ignored him, turning to Ryan instead.  “Please.”

 

_Thud!_

 

Ryan startled, biting her tongue to keep from yelling.  Clint’s knife stuck in the wall, half an inch from the stranger’s face, perfectly in line with his eyes.  Casually, Clint stood up, pulling out another, longer blade from a holster on his thigh, tapping the flat against his palm.  Ryan stood too, eyes darting between the two of them. 

 

“Eyes on me,” Clint said calmly, and for the first time, a flicker of fear ghosted over the stranger’s face.  “Name.”

 

Instead, the stranger looked up, taking a deep breath.  Suddenly, he spasmed, torso jolting backwards, and in his head, Ryan felt something happen she’d never even imagined.  In a flash, his mind jerked away from his body, and in the next second, the stranger’s ghost hovered beside his own slumped, boneless body, staring right at her.

 

There was no holding it back this time.  Ryan shrieked at the top of her lungs, scrabbling away as the ghost-stranger floated forward.  He reached for Clint, who lunged in front of her, fear widening his eyes as the phantasmal hand made to grab him –

 

_“NO!”_

 

Ryan shoved at the ghost-stranger with a glowing hand.  Instantly, he flew backwards and slammed back into his body, still held hostage against the wall.  Ryan felt his mind reconnect again, and on instinct, reached deep inside and shoved it down, locking it firmly in place.

 

Before she could do anything else, Clint grabbed her by the shoulders, her injured one burning in protest.  Fear and anger broke his calm mask, eyes wide and hands gripping tight.  “Are you alright?”

 

Ryan nodded quickly.  “He – ju – what was that?!”   

 

Before Clint could answer, the stranger gasped raggedly, eyes flying open and chest heaving.  He gritted his teeth and made the same struggling, jerking motion, but this time, nothing happened.  He tried again to no effect, and his jaw dropped.  “How the – what the _hell_ did you do to me?!”

 

_Thud!_

 

Clint’s second knife tore through the air, landing perfectly opposite the first on the other side of the stranger’s face, framing his eyes.  The stranger flinched, struggling uselessly. 

 

“Next one lands in the middle!” Clint snarled, tone dripping danger.  He stalked back to the stranger, pulling out a third knife from his belt and jamming the edge under his jaw.  “You don’t speak to her.  Now who are you, and what the hell did you just do?”

 

The stranger glared furiously, but stupidly, stubbornly, clamped his mouth shut.  Ryan saw Clint’s grip tighten on the knife and was on her feet before she could think.  “Wait!”

 

They both looked to her, and she held out her hands at her sides.  “How about we make a deal?”

 

The stranger’s eyes widened in surprise.  Clint’s narrowed, but he nodded for her to go on.  “We’ll go question for question.  I’ll be honest, I promise,” she said, and the surprise on the stranger’s face doubled. 

 

“Ryan – "

 

“He didn’t do anything to me when he got here,” Ryan interrupted, giving Clint a pleading look.  “I freaked out and threw him against the wall, and then you got here, and… and we’re all freaking out when we don’t have to,” she finished lamely.  “Please.”

 

“There are things he shouldn’t know,” Clint said pointedly, the silent _about you_ obvious. 

 

Ryan sighed.  “He already knows most of it now.  But I’ll only answer what you want, okay?”  Clint considered, then nodded, and Ryan turned back to the stranger.  The memory of what he’d just done came back, and a stir of anger in her gut overcame her fear. 

 

“Try to hurt Clint again, and you don’t want to know what I’ll do,” she said.  By the look on his face, he believed her.  “And if you’re lying, he’ll know, and the deal’s off.  Got it?”

 

The stranger stared at her for a long moment.  It was a thorough, piercing gaze, almost as if he was somehow reading _her_ mind instead of the other way around.  Then, he nodded once, and Ryan sighed again, anger dissolving away to relief.  “Okay.  Now, please, what’s your name?”

 

At last, he wasted no time in answering.  “Dr. Stephen Strange.  How are you holding me like this?”

 

Ryan blinked, taken aback.  That was an odd first question.  What, was it a surprise to him?  From what she’d saw, he’d literally teleported here, not to mentioned whatever the hell that ghost business was.  But with Clint’s nod of permission, Ryan said, “Uh.  Superpowers.  Don’t you… also have them?”

 

“No, I don’t.  How did you get them?”

 

“I was born like this.  Kinda.  It’s a long story.”

 

From the look on his face, that wasn’t good enough, but Clint interrupted before he could say anything.  “Ryan said you appeared out of nowhere, and we both saw what you just did, Casper.  If it’s not superpowers, how?”

 

“Magic.”

 

A ringing silence met this.  Ryan looked to Clint, who looked back to her.  As much as she wished otherwise, she didn’t feel like laughing at his answer.  By the momentary frown on Clint’s face, he felt the same.  She furrowed her brows in question, and Clint shook his head minutely.  Who – or _what_ – ever this Dr. Strange was, he wasn’t lying.

 

Well.  She _had_ seen him literally portal into existence.  She and Clint had both seen him… ghost into existence?  It was as good an explanation as any.   

 

Then, as one, they shrugged in acceptance.  “Alright, then.  Your question,” Clint said.

 

To her surprise, Strange’s jaw dropped.  For a moment, he stared at them, seemingly stunned into silence.  Then, shock morphed into outrage.  “Wait, wait, wait.  You… believe me?  Just like that?”

 

Clint raised a mocking eyebrow.  “You’re not lying.  What, you don’t want us to believe you?”

 

Strange sputtered a little.  He was looking at them like they were crazy, and Ryan couldn’t help but be amused.  He was the one who just declared magic was real.  Shouldn’t it be the other way around? 

 

“Are you - are you  _insane?”_ he shouted.  “A stranger comes up to you, declares something completely outrageous as fact, and you just accept it?  If you were the least bit intelligent, you’d be _insulted_ someone tried to convince you magic was real!”

 

A beat of silence, then Ryan and Clint burst out laughing. 

 

He clutched at her arm, and she nearly doubled over.  It was all too much, and Ryan dropped to the floor on her knees, tears of mirth leaking out.  Clint had gone almost silent, barely able to breathe for laughing.

 

“I’m serious!” Strange yelled over them, but it just set them off again, the sound echoing off the walls.  The fight, the tension, their surroundings – everything else disappeared, world narrowed to the sheer lunacy of the past few minutes, bubbling up as peals of laughter. 

 

“Oh – oh my god,” Ryan said when she could speak again.  “What is happening?”

 

“The – the guy – “

 

Clint cut off with another fit of laughter, gasping for breath.  “The guy uses magic in front of us, then gets pissed when we believe it’s magic,” he gasped, practically wheezing.  “Oh my _god_.  Y’know, I kinda thought he reminded me of Tony, but this is level 10 Stark-ego here.”

 

“Oh my god, I thought so too!”

 

Strange glared icily at them.  “Are you done?”

 

Ryan tried to stop, failed, laughed some more, and then finally managed a deep, calming breath.  “I’m - I'm sorry,” she said, cheeks aching from grinning, “we’re not… well, no, we are laughing at you, but only because it’s been a really long, horrible, weird few days, and I’m finally losing it.  But yeah, if magic’s real, then that’s fine.  I don’t even care anymore.”

 

He gave her another incredulous look.  “That’s… fine?” he repeated.  “It’s _fine_ , if everything you’ve ever known is suddenly different?  If the world is nothing like you ever imagined?  If you’ve been wrong about _everything,_ for your entire life?!”

 

“To be fair, it wouldn’t exactly be the first time that’s happened,” Clint said, nudging Ryan with his shoulder.  “For either of us.”

 

“No kidding,” Ryan agreed.  She shrugged again, turning back to Strange.  “I don’t know what to tell you, man.  I exist, the random girl born with superpowers.  Why not magic?”

 

“That’s hardly the same – “

 

“It kind of is, dude,” Clint interrupted.  “As for me, I’ve seen so much weird shit even before Ryan came along, I knew there had to be something up.  If it’s magic, then whatever.  Compared to Budapest, this is nothing.”

 

Ryan shook her head, smiling to herself.  It wasn’t the time to ask.  “And besides, why would I be mad at magic for just… existing?  Even if I thought it shouldn’t, it’s not all about me.”

 

Strange sucked in a startled breath.  In his mind, there was a sudden spike of sharp, raw grief, like a knife slicing into skin.  Then, beneath it, the slightest sense of wonder, like sunlight glittering on water.  It reflected in the look he gave her, wide-eyed and open, like something well-loved and long-lost had suddenly reappeared.

 

Ryan hesitated, a little uncomfortable.  “Are… you okay?” 

 

He didn’t answer for a moment.  Then, for the first time, he gave her a weak half-smile.  It did nice things for his face, softening the harsh lines to something warm.

 

“She would have liked you.”

 

“Who?”

 

He swallowed once, looking down.  “My teacher.”  He sighed, then shook his head, seeming to brush off the sudden emotion like sand off his skin.  “I wasn’t completely honest before.  My name is Dr. Stephen Strange, M.D., Ph.D., master of the mystic arts and guardian of the New York City Sanctum Sanctorum.  I was a neurosurgeon, and now I help the other masters keep the world safe from supernatural dangers.  I’m here now because of the twins.”

 

A beat of silence.  Then, Clint said, “What, only a master’s in mystic arts?  Too many letters after your name already?”

 

Ryan choked on a laugh, while Clint chuckled in triumph.  Strange glared at them both, apparently too disgusted to dignify a response.  It morphed to surprised relief, though, when Ryan lowered her hand at last, his arms and legs dropping free.  He shook out his limbs, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. 

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ryan said, offering out her hand to shake.  He flinched for a split second at her hand reaching towards him again, making Clint snicker, but he shook it with a warm, firm grip.   “I’m Ryan, this is Clint.”

 

“We’re Avengers,” Clint added.  “Well, technically only me.  Ryan mated in, but she’s everyone’s favorite now.”  Ryan smiled, ducking her head, and Clint gently tugged her by the waist into a side hug.  “So.  Zippy-zoomster and Imposter-Ryan are twins?”   

 

“Yes,” Strange said shortly, looking more closely at their surroundings for the first time.  His gaze caught on Ryan’s ice sphere, and he moved closer, peering inside and examining the surface with his hands.  “And that’s three questions in a row for you, so here are mine: where are we, who else is here, and what exactly did you see, Ryan, when the twins disappeared?”

 

“Technically, you didn’t answer the one about flunking your wizard Ph.D., so – “

 

“We’re someplace in the New Mexico desert,” Ryan interrupted, poking Clint in the side.  “Right now, we’ve got…”  She did a quick tally, counting on her fingers.  “Five Avengers, two Avengers-adjacents, a SHIELD agent, the king of a small African country, and a bunch of people that were keeping Agent Fitz captive.  And it’s like I said, white tunnels of light shot down from the sky and took them away, somehow.”

 

“Wait.  Do you often teleport places without knowing where you’re going?” Clint asked amusedly.

 

Strange grimaced slightly, pausing his inspection of the ice.  “It... happens more often than I’d like.  Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, Ryan and Clint snickering at him again.  “Ryan.  You made this?”

 

She nodded.  “Could… you do it, too?”

 

“Of course I – “

 

“Liar,” Clint said immediately. 

 

Strange gaped at him.  “How – ?”

 

Clint only smiled, friendly but mischievous, eyes glinting.  “Tell the truth.”

 

Strange sighed through his nose impatiently.  “Fine.  I would need to research a spell and practice, and even then I likely wouldn’t be able to form the shape with such precision.”  He smoothed his hand over the curve of the ice-sphere’s surface, flicking off a few shining drops.  “Happy?”

 

“Dude, wizards and magic exist and my little sister _still_ kicks total ass?  I’m fucking sublime.”

 

“Sorcerer,” Strange grumbled under his breath as Ryan tried and failed not to grin, eyes prickling.  She pulled Clint into a full hug, minding her injured shoulder, and he pressed a kiss into her hair.

 

“I mean it,” he breathed in her ear.  "And thanks for saving me from him."

 

Ryan could only nod into his shoulder, and he squeezed her tight.  After a second, though, he pulled back, face turning serious.  “Alright, this was fun, but there’s shit we gotta do.  Strange,” he called, and the man looked over.  “One-time offer.  The Avengers are looking for the Wonder Twins too.  You want them, come talk and we’ll work something out.  You can even wrap Ryan’s shoulder and check on Fitz if you want.”

 

To Ryan’s surprise, he didn’t even hesitate.  “Done.” He flicked out his wrist, drawing strange orange symbols in midair, and a long white cloth appeared in his hand.  “May I?” 

 

"Really, dude?  Magic appearing handkerchief?"

 

"It doesn't count if he doesn't pull it from his sleeve," Ryan said with a smile, nodding at Strange.  Strange actually chuckled at that, stepping close and starting to wrap up her shoulder with the cloth, careful but efficient.  “Is it my turn for a question?” 

 

“Not anymore,” he answered with a smirk, and Ryan just kept from rolling her eyes.  “How did you hurt yourself?”

 

“King T’Challa threw Bucky – he’s my mate, him and Steve – but T’Challa threw him off a roof, and I jumped after him.  I did a bad job landing us though, and I went shoulder-first into his chest.”

 

Strange paused from tying the last knot in place.  “The African king wasn’t a joke?”

 

“Certainly not,” T’Challa’s voice said behind them.

 

Strange instantly whirled around, shielding Ryan behind him.  Clint nocked an arrow and aimed his bow in one smooth motion.  Ryan just sighed.

 

“Please, guys.  I’m really done with the dramatic standoffs today,” she said, pushing out in between them.  T’Challa was out of his cat costume, black shirt with a swirling silver design and black pants replacing it.  The teeth-like necklace still hung around his neck, but his hands were held out in innocence.  His two bodyguards, however, with red tribal clothes and long staffs held at the ready, flanked him on either side, eyes hard and glittering. 

 

Anger stirred in her gut.  Earlier that day, they’d attacked her family.  T’Challa had apologized, yeah, but earning trust wasn’t happening today.  “What do you want?” she said.  “You apologized.  Just go.”

 

“What she said,” Clint echoed, pulling back the bowstring.  Strange raised one hand to the ready, but with no light glowing yet.

 

T’Challa made some invisible signal to his guards, who straightened up, weapons returning to their sides.  “There is still the matter of my father’s murderer,” he said quietly.  “I have the resources to find her for you.  I wished to offer my help to bring her to justice.”

 

“Liar,” Clint growled.  “You just want to kill her.”

 

T’Challa raised an eyebrow.  “For her, they are the same.”

 

“No,” Strange spoke up, hard and cold as a glacier.  “Whoever they are, whatever they’ve done – I don’t allow murder.”

 

One of the guards twitched her staff, almost imperceptibly, and Clint instantly adjusted, to aim between her eyes.  T’Challa’s gaze hardened. 

 

“ _They_ ,” he said.  “So there is more than one.”

 

Before Ryan could do anything – shit, what the hell was she going to do, two minutes in and they were an inch from killing each other again – when a loud crackle of static came from the floor a few yards away. 

 

“ – _ome in, Barton!  Code yellow, repeat, answer your fucking comm –_ _!_ “

 

Ryan flung out her free arm, the comm zooming into her hand in an instant.  She tossed it to Clint, who deftly caught it, bow and arrow already away as Strange jumped forward, covering them both.  T’Challa’s guards glared, but stayed put.

 

“Barton answering Wilson – Sam, what’s wrong?”

 

“ _Get Ryan down here now – Steve and Bucky won’t wake up_.”        

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have the next few parts of the story (aka a little more explanation as to why the HELL Steve is dream-cheating on Ryan???) thought up/outlined, so hopefully the next few chapters will be quick coming! Sorry this was lots of conversation filler, but Ryan needed to meet Stephen and I knew there'd be too many questions left unanswered otherwise!


	13. In Which Steve Relives the Glory Days and Strange Makes Things Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan wakes up Steve and Bucky, but it's two steps forward, 100 years back. Strange finally explains what he's doing there, and more pieces of the why-the-hell-is-this-even-happening puzzle are introduced. Darcy announces she's pregnant, and a change of scenery is in order for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I'm not making this plot TOO complicated. Like, it's totally clear in my head because I've now actually constructed the whole thing, and I'm trying to explain it all as best I can without ruining surprises, but I might've weaved a bigger web than I can chew, if you catch my meaning. There should be some questions answered in here though, so enjoy!
> 
> Brief recap of where we were at the end of last chapter: 
> 
> Steve and Bucky are stuck in Steve's 1940's Peggy Carter dreamland after Wanda used her powers on Steve. Wanda and Pietro disappeared, Strange appeared after, then T'Challa came back while Ryan, Clint and Strange were talking and things were escalating to a fight. Sam came through on the comms to say Steve and Bucky wouldn't wake up, and they needed Ryan's help.

 

 

 

Ryan gaped at Clint.  Sheer horror ripped the earth from under her, stomach in free-fall.  “No, they – they said they were okay – !”

 

Clint met her eyes, but Strange suddenly filled her view, bright gaze boring into hers.  “Don’t panic,” he said.  “You can’t lose control.  I can help them, come on.”

 

He took off for the stairwell, Clint already dashing ahead, and together, they hurried down into the dark.  A whisper under Strange’s breath lit their way, yellow-white light shining from his hand.  They emerged into a large basement, and Ryan quickly turned her head from the slew of bodies littering the floor, blood spattering skin and clothes.  She focused on Strange’s cape, rippling and flapping in their haste in front of her, following Clint’s footsteps around a corner before they suddenly stopped. 

 

A metallic click shot her head back up.  Natasha had two handguns aimed at Strange’s chest, Sam flanking her with a third.   Behind them lay Steve and Bucky, Steve flat on his back and Bucky half-atop him, slumped on his chest.  Ryan tore forward with a wordless cry, dropping to her knees beside them as Natasha spoke.

 

“Who the hell are you?” she said, glaring at Strange.

 

“Don’t shoot!” Ryan said, “he’s a friend!”

 

“He’s a wizard!” Clint exclaimed.

 

“I’m a doctor,” Strange said, glowing and normal hands both in the air.  “I’m here to help.”

 

Sam’s eyes narrowed, Natasha’s flicking to Clint’s.  Whatever she saw had her holstering her guns, Sam following a moment after.  In a flash, the light from Strange’s hand flew to hover above them, and he shooed Ryan out of the way to check over her mates, hands systematically feeling wrists and foreheads and chests.

 

“Ryan,” he said calmly, “these two are the super soldiers, correct?  What are their typical pulse ranges?”

 

“Um – l-low, I know they’re lower than – “

 

“Pupillary response normal,” Strange muttered, a tiny beam of light shining from one finger into Bucky’s eye.  He continued like she hadn’t spoken, lightly shaking their shoulders, calling their names, listening and pressing on their chests.  He tested reflexes on their fingers, squeezing their arms and poking at various spots on their faces. 

 

When he finished, he looked up at Ryan.  “There’s no sign of trauma, stroke, internal bleeding – they’re in perfect condition.  These comas aren’t natural.”

 

Dread shot through her like a bullet to the chest.  “Can you – ?”

 

He shook his head.  “I don’t mix magic and medicine, and a hospital wouldn’t help.  You need to check their minds.  Go one at a time.  If they’re in pain, if something’s wrong, you tell me.  Can you do that?”

 

She nodded quickly, blowing out a breath.  She had to focus, not panic.  They needed her.

 

With a thought, she reached for Bucky across their bond, and –

 

_Nothing_.

 

Ryan screamed, clapping her hand to her mouth.  No, no, it wasn’t possible, _no_ \- !

 

“Ryan!” Strange said sharply.  “What happened?”

 

She shook her head frantically, tears burning in her eyes.  Clint called out to her, rushing to her side, but she brushed his comforting hand off her shoulder.  She couldn’t say it, couldn’t even think it.  It couldn’t be real, he couldn’t be – if she’d lost him –

 

And Steve was unconscious too – oh god, not Steve, not him too, if she’d lost them _both_ –     

 

She practically threw herself across the bond, lunging for Steve’s mind.  Then she gasped, reeling back in surprise.  The next moment, relief so profound it almost hurt swept through her, and she sighed shakily, slumping down.

 

“Ryan!” Strange was shouting again.  “What’s going on?  Are they hurt?”

 

“No, no, they’re fine, they’re alright,” Ryan said, and relief swept across everyone’s faces.  Sam wiped a hand over his face, Clint held Natasha’s hand – or was Natasha holding his? – in a death grip, and Strange’s shoulders relaxed. 

 

Then, reality caught up with Ryan again, and the relief was eclipsed by utter confusion.  “Wait, what the fuck?”

 

Strange’s eyes snapped open.  “What?  What is it?”

 

“It’s – he’s – it’s Bucky!  He’s – _in_ Steve!”

 

Everyone stared at her.  She threw her unbandaged hand in the air.  “What?  I don’t know!  He’s – his mind, it’s in Steve!”

 

“How is that even possible?” Sam said, looking at her like he was concerned her mind was misplaced, too.  Natasha kept her face carefully blank, but her eyes were bright with worry.

 

“Wait, is Steve still… in Steve, too?” Clint added, sounding less worried and more intrigued now that Ryan had calmed down.  “Oh my god, did they Freaky Friday?!  _Please_ tell me they body-snatched each other – “ 

 

Strange, meanwhile, had that Tony-esque look on his face, eyes darting between her mates before flicking up to Ryan.  She didn’t need to read his mind to know how hard and fast he was thinking.  “They’re both in one body?” 

 

Ryan nodded.  “Can you fix them?” she breathed, but he was already shaking his head.

 

“Wanda has your powers, correct?  If she did this to them, you can reverse it.”

 

She took a deep, shaking breath.  He was right, it had to be her – but he was also wrong.  It wasn’t Wanda’s fault, but hers.  Bucky had been fine when he’d left her, so only her powers, somehow given to him, could’ve done this.  “Alright.  I don’t know how, but…”

 

“They found you using your bond,” Natasha spoke up.  “Find them the same way.”

 

Ryan half-smiled.  As always, Nat knew best.  “Give me a second, then,” she said, and closed her eyes. 

 

Well, first things first.  She should take a look in their minds, see what they were thinking.  She’d just sensed them before, but with all three of them actually talking, they’d figure it out in no time. 

 

She focused on Steve’s mind first, opening the door between them, and her heart stopped at what she saw.  Then, on pure instinct, she stepped through the door for the first time.      

 

 

* * *    * * *     * * *

 

 

“Steve!”

 

At Bucky’s shocked cry, Steve broke his kiss with Peggy, eyes wide with surprise.  Then, an awestruck grin spread across his face. 

 

“Buck,” he breathed, “ _mo anamchara_ – you’re here, you’re alive!”

 

Then Steve was kissing him furiously, crushing him to his chest.  Bucky responded instinctively, clinging to Steve and parting his lips.  Steve deepened the kiss with a low, claiming growl that left Bucky gasping against him. 

 

Then, oxygen hit his brain again, and Steve’s words rang through his head like a warning bell.  He pushed Steve back, eyes wide with alarm.  “Steve.  I’ve been back over two years, we – and what the hell?  Why the fuck are you macking on Peggy!?”

 

“Two years…?” Steve furrowed his brows a moment, but then Peggy was there, taking his hand and leaning against his arm.  He immediately pressed a kiss to her hair, nuzzling against her, and Bucky felt sick to his stomach.  This wasn’t real, it was in his head, it couldn’t be _real_ –

 

– but Steve thought it was.

 

“We’ve been waiting for you, Sergeant,” Peggy said softly.  She cupped his cheek with a small, gentle hand, and it was so surreal Bucky let it happen.  “I know we haven’t had a chance yet, to… know each other fully.  But I’ve dearly hoped for one.”

 

“And now it’s here,” Steve said.  His scent was pleased, proud Alpha, covering them like a warm, woven blanket.  “What d’you say we take this home?”

 

“Home?” Bucky said, head reeling.  “We can’t – “

 

“The war’s over,” Peggy said, and suddenly stood on her toes and kissed him.  It felt real, as real as Steve had, her lips soft and slightly sticky with red lipstick.  “We can go home now.”

 

Before he could say anything, do anything, there was a shift in the air.  A small, familiar tug on his mind, and he whirled around to see Ryan, standing alone, shock and betrayal in her shining eyes.

 

“Ryan,” he gasped, “I – “

 

Her eyes closed, tears leaking out the corners, and her hands glowed blue.  Suddenly, the world tilted sideways, and Bucky fell backwards, yanked into black nothingness.

 

With a bone-jarring thud, he landed in his own body, and the world flooded with light.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

In the end, it was as simple as a thought to bring Bucky back.  Ryan pulled him out, then felt her way back across the bond, eyes snapping open when she was herself again.  Then she yelped in surprise as Strange’s face hovered inches from hers, hands on her non-bandaged arm and wrist.  She scrabbled back instinctively, yanking herself free.

 

At her cry, Bucky shot to his feet in a blur.  To her horror, his eyes shone bright gold, metal and flesh hands matching as he thrust them both at Strange.  With a shout, he careened back into the basement wall with a sickening thud, and Ryan just barely caught his head with a blue-glowing hand before it slammed back against the concrete.

 

Bucky stalked forward, slowly, power rolling off him in waves of light.  “Touch my mate again,” he growled, “and I’ll cut your fingers off one at a time.”

 

“Bucky!” Ryan shouted, horrified.  She threw herself in between him and Strange, free hand pushing against Bucky’s chest.  “Stop!  He’s a doctor, he was helping me!”

 

Gold-lit eyes met hers, and she matched their glare.  To her relief, he stepped back, lowering his hands.  Their light faded away as he closed his eyes, breathing slowly.  Behind her, Strange gasped, deep and ragged, coughing on the exhale.

 

“So.  That’s new,” Sam said. 

 

He, Natasha and Clint all wore varying degrees of surprise on their faces.  Bucky was ignoring them to focus on Strange again, eyes narrowing.  Apparently, he didn’t consider him enough of a threat to keep from turning away and herding Ryan back to Steve, who was still on the ground.

 

“Shit,” he breathed, hurrying to their mate’s side.  “Why isn’t he – ?”

 

Then, Steve gasped a breath, eyes flying open.  For a split second, Ryan swore she saw something in his eyes – a flash of red? – but then they were blue, Steve’s deep ocean blue, and they were focused on her.

 

“Steve,” she exclaimed in relief, “are you okay?  What happ – “

 

But Steve’s gaze slipped away like she was a stranger.  He latched onto Bucky instead, shock and joy mingling in a growing smile.  “Buck – Jesus H, fucking – it was real?”

 

A disbelieving laugh, and he launched himself at Bucky, tackling him in a crushing hug.  They landed with an earth-shaking thud, and then Steve was kissing him fiercely before Bucky shoved him back.

 

“Steve!  Steve, wait – “

 

“When?” Steve said, cupping Bucky’s face in his hands with a look of wonder.  “How – how did you – _mo dhia, cad a tharla do lámh [my God, what happened to your arm?!]”_

 

They sat up, Steve cradling Bucky’s metal arm in his hands, staring in equal shock and fascination at the shifting plates as Bucky moved.  “It – when you – did Howard…?”

 

“ _Howard?_   Tony’s dad?” Clint exclaimed, and Steve’s attention snapped upwards.  Immediately, he jumped to his feet and shoved Bucky behind him.

 

“The fuck ‘re all ‘a you?” he said, his voice thick with an accent Ryan knew was long since trained out of him.  “Buck, where the hell are we?  Where’s Peg?”

 

With the last question, the last of Ryan’s hopes shattered.  Steve didn’t remember her.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

Bucky’s head was still spinning from returning to his own self, but he shook it off as he pushed in front of Steve again.  “Hey!  Relax, Rogers, they’re friendlies!”

 

Steve took them all in with a quick but analytical sweep.  “Yeah?  With what unit?”

 

“58th Rescue Squadron, USAF,” Sam replied coolly, stepping forward.  Clint and Natasha were muttering in rapid Russian, Clint ushering Ryan over to his side, and the stranger-slash-doctor in the odd clothing was simply watching, eyes sharp with focus.  Bucky ignored him; if anyone could figure out what to do with Steve right now, it was Sam.  “Staff Sergeant Sam Wilson.  Captain, do you know what year it is?”  

 

Steve had straightened to attention, authority settling on his shoulders at Sam’s address.  “1945, last I checked.  But” – he glanced around again – “last I also checked, the Howlies were in the Swiss Alps in winter, not an American desert in summer.  I might be behind on the times.”

 

Ryan made a small noise behind him, and Bucky’s heart broke a little further.  But right now, they had to focus.  Whatever else was wrong with his brain, Steve seemed as sharp as ever.  Maybe they should just rip off the bandage.  “Steve.  It’s – “

 

“ – not the time to get into details right now,” Sam interrupted smoothly, shooting Bucky a look.  No ripping, then.  “This is Agent Clint Barton, Agent Natasha Romanoff, Dr. Stephen Strange, and” – he halted for a moment, fumbling – “Ryan Green.  During a search and rescue op, and you were hit with an unknown… chemical agent, before we found you.  There appear to be some side effects, but as you’re up and awake, we’ll deal with them later.  We’ve secured the area for now, but there’s a wounded agent we need to get to help.”

 

Strange spoke up next, stepping forward.  “Captain, I’m a medical doctor.  If you’ll follow me upstairs, I’ll start an examination – “

 

“Not necessary, doc,” Steve interrupted, “I heal quick.  Sergeant Barnes – “

 

“Captain, you _need_ medical attention –“

 

Steve stopped him with a startlingly firm look.  “I’ll be fine, doc.  As I was saying, Sergeant Barnes can fill me in as we go.  Agents,” he added, looking to Clint and Natasha, “one of you escort Miss Green and any other civilians to safety.  Everyone else, keep the perimeter secure and an ear out for orders.  Doc, get to the injured agent ASAP.  Move – “

 

Several sets of footsteps interrupted him, and preternatural speed launched Steve to the front of the group, shield up at the ready.  The next moment, King T’Challa and the Dora Milaje appeared, for once with no weapons in sight.  With an invisible signal, his bodyguards split off and, to everyone’s surprise, started cleaning up the bodies left in the other room.

 

“Captain,” T’Challa called, hands up at his sides.  “I am glad to see you are in good health again.  If your mate has not yet said, we have called for peace.”

 

Bucky glanced back at Ryan, who nodded quickly, though Clint and Nat still took protective stances in front of her.  Steve, however, was already speaking.  “Good to hear.  His name’s Sergeant Barnes, though.  Wanna let us past?”

 

Shit.  Ryan was the one who’d known about T’Challa, not him.  They didn’t have time for this, Jesus.

 

Surprise showed briefly on T’Challa’s face before smoothing neutral again.  “Everyone,” he said, “I would like to extend an invitation.  It is clear this country is not safe for the time being.  All of you are welcome into Wakanda’s borders while you… recover.”

 

“Not a chance in _hell,_ ” Clint suddenly snarled, stepping forward.  “Listen, your Royal Ass-ness, we told you to get fucking lost.  None of us is going anywhere with the likes of you or your fucking girl group here, not after – “       

 

“Agent!” Steve snapped, rounding on Clint.  “That’s enough.  In my unit, women and colored folks are respected as – “

 

A chorus of pained groans drowned him out, everyone cringing.  Bucky quickly intervened, holding up a hand.  “He doesn’t – Steve didn’t mean it like that.  But the answer’s still no.”

 

“We can help,” T’Challa said, unbothered.  “With the Captain’s… ailment, and yours.”

 

“Buck?” Steve said, brows furrowed.  “What’s he talking about?”

 

“In a minute, Steve – “

 

“We don’t have any more minutes,” Clint said, “Fitz needs – “

 

“There is no safety here,” T’Challa interrupted, “not with your government chasing after – “

 

“And it’s just guilt, why you’re suddenly offering help?” Strange spoke up, dripping with sarcasm.  “At least tell us why you really – “

 

“Everyone, calm down, let’s just – “ Sam exclaimed.

 

“What the hell’s really going on – ?”

 

“We need to – “

 

“All of you, listen – “

 

“Give it up already – !”

 

“ _ENOUGH!_ ”

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

It took every shred of Ryan’s self-control to keep from rattling the room from floor to ceiling.  Her hands shook in tight fists, shining bright blue as her shout echoed over their heads.  “Enough,” she repeated in a low growl.  “We’re getting nowhere like this – “

 

Suddenly, Steve moved in a blur, lunging in front of Bucky with his shield.  His eyes were fixed on her glowing hands, a flicker of fear behind their cold mask of authority.  “Miss Green,” he said.  “Back away.  Slowly.”

 

Ryan gritted her teeth, tears burning in her eyes.  He doesn’t remember, she told herself.  It didn’t help at all.  “Steve, I – “

 

_THWAP!_

 

Steve dropped like a rock to the ground.  Over him stood Natasha, shaking out a stinging hand, the other holding the barrel of the gun she’d whacked him with. 

 

“Natasha!” Ryan exclaimed, horrified.  “What – “

 

“Cognitive recalibration,” she said casually.  “We need to speak freely, and it worked with Clint.  He’ll be fine.”

 

“Fine?!” Strange shouted, hurrying forward.  He checked Steve over, then rose with a furious glare.  “You concussed him, he was already experiencing amnesia – !”

 

Natasha raised a single eyebrow, slowly.  Immediately, Strange shut up, though fury was still evident in his scowl.  “Ryan.  You were saying?”

 

Ryan blew out a breath.  A headache had started throbbing behind her eyes after Wanda had disappeared, and it was only getting worse.  “We – we need to figure out what Wanda did to him.  And to Bucky, earlier.” 

 

She stared at the ground as she said it.  “And we need to get Fitz to a hospital, and we need to… to figure out where the twins went.  And…”

 

She trailed off, thoughts spinning too fast to think straight anymore.

 

Thankfully, Sam stepped in.  “How about,” he said calmly, “we go head to the plane for now?  We’ll have some rations, we’ll all rest a minute, and then debrief everyone at once?”

 

Ryan nodded with a grateful look.  Amazingly, everyone went without complaint, filing up out of the basement the way they came.

 

“Backed down there pretty quick, o Mystic-Master,” Ryan heard Clint mutter, smirking as he passed.

 

“I know who she is.  I’m an egoist, not an idiot,” Strange muttered back, glancing nervously after Natasha.  Clint laughed, and in a moment, only Ryan, Bucky, Strange, and Steve on the floor were left.

 

“Ryan, Sergeant,” Strange said.  “I’d like to put the Captain in stasis.  It’ll let him heal the concussion, at least, and keep him from waking up.  Just until we figure out what happened.”

 

Ryan glanced at Bucky, but he wasn’t looking at her.  Exhausted eyes laid on Steve’s form instead.  “Buck?”

 

“You packing a cryostasis chamber in that cape, doc?” Bucky said tiredly. 

 

“He’s a wizard,” Ryan said, just as exhaustedly.

 

“Sorcerer,” Strange grumbled.

 

Bucky sighed, a heavy, rattling thing.  “Great.  Magic.  Just what we need.”

 

“I trust him,” Ryan said.  “And I don’t have a better idea.”

 

Bucky’s eyes drooped shut.  Then he nodded once, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Just do it.  Ryan, you go ahead.  I’ll bring Steve to the plane.”

 

“No, it’s fine.”

 

“Ryan – “

 

“Haven’t we fought enough today, Bucky?”

 

She immediately regretted it.  It was wrong of her to say.  But… it wasn’t wrong, either.  That morning – Jesus, that morning she’d woken up happy in his arms.  Last night, they’d shared her heat together.  After that…well.  Today might have beaten out September 11th, 2001 as the longest day of her life. 

 

Bucky turned away.  “I’ll leave you to it.  Holler if you need help.”

 

She wanted to call out to him the second he walked off.  She wanted to hold him as tight as she could, as long as she could keep her arms up.  She also wanted to scream at him ‘til her lungs gave out, how she could still see Peggy Carter’s phantom red lipstick on his cheek.  She let him leave.

 

“Shit,” she heard Strange mutter, and she startled to see him pressing on Steve’s abdomen, red staining one hand.  He conjured up a bandage like he’d done for her shoulder, and Ryan carefully hovered Steve in midair with a thought, letting him wrap it around his torso.

 

“Thank you,” he said absently.  “He agitated a wound, some stitches ripped.” 

 

“Color me unsurprised,” Ryan said flatly, and Strange chuckled.  “Can you really not just heal him?”

 

“Like I said, I don’t mix magic and medicine.  Beyond what I’m doing now, anyway.  Besides, healing magic is notoriously difficult.”  He paused a moment, then added, “Also, the Masters’ most recent spellbook is about 3,000 years old.  They all thought disease was caused by pestilence demons from a hell dimension.  I’m not sure how effective the magic would be.”  

 

Ryan didn’t know if he was joking, but she laughed anyway.  “Three millennia?  What, no one’s invented any new spells since?” 

 

“No, I’m sure they have.  Wong’s just a shitty librarian.  But to his credit, the Wi-Fi signal in there is amazing.”    

 

He smirked up at her, and they laughed together as he finished, the happy sound a stark contrast to the dank basement with only Strange’s magic lights, her unconscious mate, and a roomful of dead bodies for company.  She really was losing it.

 

A few strange symbols drawn, a few orange circles in midair, and suddenly a wave of light rippled over Steve’s body before snuffing out.  He lay utterly still, more so than before.  Only his fluttering chest indicated he was still alive. 

 

“Done,” Strange said, and Ryan carefully floated Steve horizontally beside her, like she was wheeling him on a gurney, up and out into the now-fully-dark night. 

 

Inside the plane, she laid Steve in a reclined seat in the back, then collapsed into the chair beside him. 

 

After a moment, Darcy’s voice spoke.  “Hey, girl,” she said, and Ryan dragged her eyes back open.  Darcy held out a bottle of water and a chocolate protein bar, but Ryan ignored them to stand and throw her arms around her.  Darcy held her back just as tight.

 

“That was the fucking worst,” Darcy whispered, and Ryan cracked up, holding her tighter.

 

“Yep,” she said.  That about summed it up.

 

After another minute, Darcy pulled back, pushing the food and water at her again.  “C’mon, everyone’s waiting.”

 

Together, they went outside to the surprisingly chilly night.  Stars blazed overhead, thousands more than Ryan could normally see in New York, the glittering swath of the Milky Way like a river of light.  Strange had magicked up little white lights again, and everyone stood in a circle on the sand.

 

“So.  A wizard, huh?” Darcy muttered as they took their spots, her next to Natasha and Ryan beside Bucky.  Natasha immediately took Darcy’s hand even as she muttered in Russian to Clint, but Ryan and Bucky stood a full foot apart, not even glancing at each other.

 

“Why not?” Ryan murmured back, and they both laughed softly.  “You should go first, Darce.”

 

Darcy blew out a breath and nodded.  “Hey, everyone?  Hi,” she said, waving nonchalantly.  “Magic man and king-whatever, I’m Darcy, Clint and Nat’s mate.”

 

Strange huffed a laugh, nodding in acknowledgment.  T’Challa didn’t react.  “Cool.  Uh, so I have an announcement, and it kinda affects how some of us are going forward, so…yeah.”  She turned to face Clint and Natasha, both of whom sported half-surprised, half-wary looks.  “I’m sorry, guys, I didn’t want to tell you like this, but… I’m pregnant.”

 

Clint and Nat’s jaws dropped in perfect sync. 

 

“Wh – wh – you – what?!” Clint exclaimed, hands flying to his head.  Nat stood still as a statue, not even breathing.  She looked like she’d been hit by a brick wall.

 

“I’m – I’m pregnant,” Darcy repeated.  She sounded nervous now, crossing her arms over her stomach. 

 

Clint sputtered again, but trailed off into a humongous grin.  “You – you’re _pregnant!_ ” he shouted, and hoisted Darcy up into the air in a bear-hug.  He spun her around, laughing riotously.  “Holy shit, I’m gonna be a _dad!_ ” 

 

Everyone burst into cheers and applause, Sam whistling with two fingers.  Clint put Darcy down only to hug-tackle Natasha, whose stunned look had turned into a small, dazed smile.  She stumbled back, only to shove Clint off and yank Darcy into her arms instead.  She muttered something in fervent Russian, then kissed her breathless. 

 

Beside her, Ryan felt Bucky turn away.  She glanced over, and his eyes were screwed tight like he was in pain.  Then, he sighed out a quiet breath and pasted on a convincing smile as he joined Sam, already offering congratulations. 

 

He murmured Russian at Nat, and whatever he said made her bark a laugh, giving him a friendly punch to the shoulder.  He shook Clint’s hand and kissed Darcy’s cheek, grinning at all three of them.

 

“That’s amazing, guys.  Congratulations.”

 

When he stepped back, Ryan went forward, pulling Darcy into a hug.  “I’m so happy for you.  I can’t wait to meet them.”

 

Darcy wiped a stray tear, chuckling wetly.  “You’ll be their godmother, right?  Clint’s gonna ask you in, like, three seconds, and Nat’ll say yes for you.”

 

“Ryan!” Clint suddenly shouted in her ear, and she found herself hoisted in a vice-grip hug as well.  “Darcy’s fucking _pregnant!_ ”

 

“I know!” Ryan exclaimed happily.  “Put me down!”

 

“Only if you’ll be the godmother!”

 

“Of course she’ll be,” Natasha inserted like it was obvious, and Ryan and Darcy burst out laughing. 

 

“Guess that means we’ve gotta get your name cleared in the next eight-ish months,” Darcy said.

 

That quickly sobered the mood.  Ryan tried to smile at her, but it was a weak, half-formed thing.  Clint’s expression went from thrilled to worried in a split second.

 

“Shit.  I – Nat, you take Darce, I’ll – ”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ryan said.  “All three of you going someplace safe right now.  No, Clint, please don’t argue,” she added pleadingly, cutting him off before he started.  “Natasha’s already been arrested – “

 

“They don’t want me,” Natasha said, shaking her head.  “You’re right.  If us three split up, they’ll know Clint is with you.”  She put a protective arm around Darcy as she spoke.  “But we still have enemies on two fronts.  And now Rogers is incapacitated, and Barnes is compromised.”

 

Ryan’s heart sank.  Nat was right, as usual – she’d snapped Bucky out of his… fugue state easily enough, but if Wanda got to him when she wasn’t around, if Pietro got the drop on her first... everyone and more was in danger again.

 

Natasha turned to Strange then, gaze cold.  “And you still haven’t explained what you’re doing here.”

 

“He said he’s here because of the twins,” Ryan said quickly, but Strange held up a hand, giving her a small smile.

 

“Thank you, but I can explain.”  He looked Natasha square in the eye, then Bucky, correctly realizing they were the ones he needed most to impress.  “My story’s a long one, as I’m sure are yours.  But the other Masters and I are only trying to keep the world safe, like the Avengers do.”

 

“I know what the Masters do,” Natasha said shortly, ignoring several looks of surprise sent her way.  “I asked what you’re doing here.”

 

Blinking away his own wonder, Strange continued, “I’ve been tracking down lost magical artifacts. Trying to keep dangerous power out of wrong or uninformed hands.  I caught wind of the Chitauri Scepter a few weeks ago, and it led me to the twins.”

 

At his words, a chill ran down Ryan’s spine.  She shivered involuntarily, hugging her arms across her chest.  She hadn’t been remotely involved in “the Incident”, as it was called – she’d been in Boston then, not New York – but everyone knew what the Chitauri were.  No one else looked much better; Sam was frowning deeper than she’d ever seen, Bucky’s eyes narrowed, and even T’Challa looked concerned.  They were positively chipper, however, compared to Clint’s mix of horror and fury, his mates gripping either arm as if holding him back – or up.

 

“Where is it?” he said, unable to completely hide the fear in his voice.

 

Strange shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I traced it first to some sort of… military compound, in Sokovia, of all places.” 

 

Ryan was slightly ashamed to realize she had no idea where that was.  She glanced nervously sideways at Darcy, who thankfully mouthed ‘east Europe’ at her, smirking a little after.

 

“They’re in a civil war right now,” Sam pointed out, and Ryan felt even more embarrassed.  She ought to read the news more often.  “Was it one of the factions that had it?”

 

Strange shook his head again.  “I don’t know what group it was – the place looked like it’d been built decades ago, but the security was insane.  I had to scout around to find a place to portal inside, but they had some electric force field around the whole perimeter – “

 

Ryan gasped audibly, stiffening up.  Beside her, Bucky snapped to attention, scent blazing with anger. 

 

“What language did they speak?” he snarled, stalking forward towards Strange.

 

“Uh, English and Russian?” Strange answered, looking at him in alarm.  “Why – “

 

Bucky whirled around, staring horrified at Natasha.  Her face was unusually pale, but still determined.  “How the _fuck_ did SHIELD not know?!”  

 

“We’ll find it,” she said in answer.  “ _Klyanus’_ _[I swear it].”_

 

“Who has it?” Strange said, looking between the two of them.

 

“He – he had one too,” Ryan said shakily.  The chill of the desert night met the icy fear growing in her stomach, making her knees tremble where she stood.  Her breath started coming faster, the darkness beyond the little circle of light creeping closer.  “He – “

 

“ _Who?_ ” Strange said.

 

“HYDRA,” Bucky spat, practically vibrating with repressed fury.  “It’s still alive.”

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

Cold, sharp dread pierced through Ryan at his words.  Her tongue tripped over itself, trying to form words through the fear.  “It – he – he was HYDRA?!  They had me?!”

 

Bucky blinked at her, confused, until realization widened his eyes.  “No,” he said firmly.  “They developed the tech, he must’ve bought or stolen it.  There was no other connection.  HYDRA never touched you.  I swear.”

 

It shouldn’t have been, but it was oddly comforting.  Ryan nodded once, hugging her chest and trying to breathe deeply.  He – Kilgrave – was the foulest, evilest person ever to live, but he was just one person.  It was somehow better that it was just he who kidnapped her, rather than the world’s foulest, evilest organization.

 

“Ignoring the history there I obviously don’t know,” Strange said, breaking the quiet tension.  “There’s worse news.  This HYDRA group didn’t just have the scepter.  They were using it.  From what I can tell… it’s how the twins got their abilities.”

 

Shocked silence followed him.  Then, Clint snorted derisively.  “Sure, whatever.  I get mind-controlled by it, that Wanda bitch gets mind control from it.  That’s fair.”

 

Natasha murmured something in Russian, and Clint just shook his head.  “You said ‘were using it’,” she said in English.  “Did they lose the scepter?”

 

Strange sighed.  “Once I found out about the twins, I was going to rescue them.  I left for half a day to prepare, but when I came back… I was too late.  The compound was obliterated, everything burned to ground.  The twins and the scepter were gone, and I’ve been jumping around, trying to find them again ever since.”

 

He looked to Ryan.  “Apparently, they have some sort of grudge against you?”

 

Ryan shrugged helplessly, her injured shoulder protesting.  Whatever the twins’ full history, it had nothing to do with her so far.  She was clueless.  Except… Wanda’s memory, a Stark Industries missile three feet from her bed in a ruined house, huddling in terror with Pietro…

 

She swallowed once.  She should talk to Tony about that before anyone else.  “All I know is, after they tried to kill everyone again, I had them trapped one second and they got sucked up into a magic wormhole the next.”   

 

“Magic wormhole?” Darcy said in alarm.  “You mean like when – ?”

 

A shrill, insistent beeping interrupted her, coming from T’Challa’s direction.  To Ryan’s surprise, he flipped out what looked like a regular phone, only for a hologram to shoot up from it like how Tony’s did, showing three red dots on a blinking grid. 

 

“About time.  Americans.”  He clicked his tongue with disapproval.  “There are three U.S. stealth planes ten minutes out,” he announced, dismissing the hologram with a wave.  “Miss Green, you would be wise to bring yourself and your mates to Wakanda.  If you remain here, you will be caught.”

 

“I…”

 

Ryan trailed off, looking to Bucky.  Fuck it all, she knew T’Challa was right. By Bucky’s single nod, he agreed. 

 

“Goddammit,” she muttered, then nodded at T’Challa.  “Fine.  But only if – !”

 

“Yes, whoever else wishes is free to accompany us,” T’Challa inserted, waving her off.  Then, from the pocket of his loose, flowy pants, he pulled out an ordinary key fob and clicked the button. 

 

Half a dozen yards from their borrowed Starkplane, what looked like a Star Wars-style spaceship appeared out of nowhere with the cheerful beep of an unlocked car.  Ryan yelped and jumped in sync with Darcy, staring in shock. 

 

“What the fuck?” she and Clint said together, everyone else’s jaws dropped open. 

 

T’Challa half-smiled, half-smirked at them.  “What?” 

 

He strode off with his guards towards his spaceship, like that was a perfectly normal thing to do.  Ryan tore her gaze away only when Clint yanked her into a hug.

 

“We’ll take care of Fitz, don’t worry,” he said, muffled into her hair.  “We’ll find out what’s going on, I promise.” 

 

Ryan squeezed him as tight as she could with her good arm.  “Thank you.”

 

He sniffed once, then kissed the side of her head.  “Stay safe, little sis.”

 

“Be good, big bro,” she replied, then pulled back and wiped her eyes.  Clint gave her a small smile, then looked to Strange with a hard glare.

 

“ _Keep.  Them.  Safe_ ,” he growled.  “Or I’ll keep my promise from before.”

 

Strange rubbed a nervous hand over his forehead, where Clint’s promise would’ve landed.  “I will.”

 

Clint nodded, then took off for the plane, disappearing into the cockpit.  The next moment, Bucky deboarded as the engines roared to life, Steve in a fireman’s hold over his shoulders.  He nodded to Natasha, who nodded back, then started off for T’Challa’s ship.  Natasha nodded at Ryan then, half-smiling. 

 

“Remember what I taught you,” she said.  “And if the Wakandans try any shit, kick their asses for me.”

 

Ryan cracked a grin.  “I will.”

 

“Good girl.”  With that, she followed Clint into the plane.

 

“Ryan,” Darcy said, voice urgent.  She grabbed her good shoulder, brows furrowed.  “You said the twins disappeared in a big white wormhole-thingy?”  At Ryan’s nod, she glanced around, but they were alone now; Sam and Strange had followed after Bucky.  Her voice lowered to a murmur, and she stood on her tiptoes to reach Ryan’s ear.

 

“That’s how Thor got here, to Earth,” she said.  “It’s called the Bifrost.  Only he and Jane know how it works.  It’s only supposed to be him and a few other Asgardians that can use it, but…”

 

She leaned back and shrugged, brows pinched with worry.  “Sorry I don’t know more, I always tuned Jane out when she started talking interdimensional shit.”

 

Ryan chuckled, shaking her head.  “It’s fine, that’s more than enough.”  She pulled Darcy into a hug.  “Stay safe, okay?  I’ll see you soon.”

 

“You’d fucking better,” Darcy said, shaking her a little.  They smiled at each other one last time, then took off running for their rides.

 

Ryan hurried up the ramp inside the spaceship, nerves clawing at her stomach.  God, she hated heights in normal planes.  This was going to be hell.         

 

 

     

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few big hints about my last big plot twists in this chapter!! But if anyone's (rightfully) hella confused, shoot me a comment and I'll clarify! I love hearing feedback about this, so leave a comment if you want! Ryan and I love you all <3 <3 <3


	14. In Which Everyone Communicates A Little Better, Except T'Challa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Ryan and Sam have a good, old-fashioned gossip session. Ryan and Strange continue their deal over an enlightening card game. They all make it safe to bright and sunny Wakanda, but despite the heat, it’s not a warm welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End-of-last-chapter recap: Clint, Nat and Darcy have left, gone under the radar for Darcy’s sake. T’Challa offers the remaining Avengers safe harbor in Wakanda, and they accept. Amnesia-ridden Steve is healing under Strange’s stasis-spell, but without knowing what Wanda really did, they don’t know how to get his memories back. 
> 
> Surprise! It didn't take a month! I got this chapter written pretty fast after the last one. Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

_Lie still, my dear, smile for me now –_

 

 

 

Ryan jerked awake with a gasp.  Her left shoulder ached terribly, but it was the phantom eyes, unearthly purple and leering, that left her gritting her teeth.

 

“Ryan?”

 

Sam poked his head around the corner.  T’Challa’s spaceship-plane was Air Force One on futuristic steroids, so Ryan was hiding in a lounge the middle, curled in an insanely comfy armchair and pointedly avoiding windows.  “You alright?”

 

A bitter laugh escaped before she could stop it, and Sam chuckled.  “Yeah, dumbass question.  Can I come in?” 

 

At her nod, he settled on a chaise opposite her, feet propped on the arm.  “Momma would cuff me upside the head for putting shoes on the couch, but the guy tried to kill all of us, so.”

 

Ryan laughed for real then.  How he could always lift everyone’s spirits, no matter how bad things got, was a better superpower than any she possessed. 

 

“Are you okay, Sam?” she asked, and got a surprised look in return.

 

“I mean, I’m a little tired, but I’m alright.  No, really,” he said to her disbelieving look.  “It sucked real bad for the three minutes we thought you, Steve, and Bucky were dead under the Edwin Hotel, but otherwise?  All I’ve done is fight some goons and tried to keep everyone else alive and well.  The heavy shit’s been happening to you.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” Ryan muttered.  For god’s sakes, she should be in Ireland on her honeymoon.  Well, she thought wryly, maybe Wakanda would have a rolling green hill or two.  Not that they’d be able to enjoy them.  One of her mates didn’t even remember her.  “By the way, I’m not mad, but why didn’t you tell Steve he was having amnesia?”  

 

Sam shifted a little, uncomfortable.  “Normal amnesia, right away.  Mind-control-induced amnesia that reverts him back seventy years?”  He shrugged.  “Had to make a call.  He heals fast, and with your guys’ crazy mind-bond, I figured forcing it might do more harm than good.”

 

Ryan nodded slowly.  It made sense.  Maybe when they got to Wakanda she should look inside Steve’s mind again, see if anything was different.  If it wasn’t, though… she couldn’t handle seeing him kiss another woman again.  She could barely handle it now.

 

“So, Nat, Clint and Darcy, huh?  I can’t even believe it,” Sam said, and she jumped onto the subject change.

 

“Right?  I’m so happy for them.”  She raised a teasing eyebrow.  “You ever gonna settle down, or are you a free-range chicken for life?”

 

Sam snorted, wrinkling his nose.  “That’s the worst bird joke anyone’s ever made about me, and we live with Tony Stark.”

 

“I try.  But for real, you should find someone if you want.  You’re an Avenger, they’ll line up at the door.”

 

Sam chuckled, and it was a little uncomfortable.  “It’s… complicated, is all.”

 

Ryan’s smile dimmed, a long-ago conversation with Thor coming back too late.  “I’m sorry.  I know… you had someone, once.”

 

“Almost had,” Sam said quietly.  It was a nostalgic quiet, though, not quite sad.  “Riley wasn’t my mate yet.”

 

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

 

“Nah, it’s alright.  I don’t talk about him much, but only ‘cause you all never got to meet him.”  He smiled wistfully, up at the ceiling of the plane.  “I’ll always love him a little, but I’ve moved on.  And hey,” he added, smile turning to a smirk, “never said I wasn’t interested in someone.”

 

Ryan gasped in excitement.  “Sam!  That’s great, who is it?!”

 

He laughed sheepishly.  “Yeah, uh… don’t tell anybody, but.  Bruce and I have talked about trying something.”  Ryan’s jaw dropped, and he huffed another laugh.  “Like I said, complicated.”

 

“Why?  Bruce is great, you’re great – “

 

“Bruce is also a part-time dangerous superhuman, I’m also a vet with PTSD, and we’re also wrapped up in a pretty crazy family dynamic already,” Sam said.  “And… well.  Bruce and Tony…”

 

“Oh.  Yeah, I… I mean, Pepper loves Bruce, they’ve obviously never had real problems, but…”

 

“Yeah.  So, things are kinda in limbo right now.  So we’re keeping it on the down low,” Sam finished.  “Also, on Tony and Pepper… keep the baby news quiet for now, alright?”

 

Ryan nodded quickly.  “Yeah, of course.  Um, can I ask why?”

 

Sam glanced toward the empty door, then back to her.  “They decided to try, a year or two before you came.  Pepper had a bad miscarriage, and they can’t anymore.”

 

“Oh, god.  That’s awful.”

 

Sam nodded solemnly.  “Pepper had me recommend a therapist afterward.  It was bad for a while, but they’re healing.  Still, let me or Bruce break the news, okay?  They’d never admit it, but it’ll hurt.”  He sighed again.  “While we’re on the heavy gossip sesh, you wanna talk about what’s up with you and Bucky?  Or his sudden superpower gain?”

 

Ryan sighed.  “Honestly?  No.”

 

Sam smiled.  “Fair enough.  Good job saying ‘no’, too.”  He sat up, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck.  “Feeling any better?”

 

She nodded, and his smile widened.  “Try and get some more sleep, then.  We’re still a few hours out.”

 

No way that was happening, but Sam didn’t need to know.  Once he’d gone, she sighed, remnants of the nightmare bubbling back up like acid.  Well, if she wasn’t going to sleep, she needed to eat something.  Steve would be upset if she fell back to her _starve-yourself-as-an-external-form-of-control_ habit when he wasn’t awake to snap her out of it.

 

She wandered out of the lounge, having no idea where food might be.  A plane this fancy not having peanuts seemed a crime.  What was the proper snack for spaceships, though?  Smartfood popcorn?

 

Lost in thought, she turned a corner and almost ran smack-dab into Strange, stepping on his cape.  Before she could so much as lean back, though, the cape yanked itself out from under her.  She lost her balance with a yelp, tumbling back until, incredibly, the cape itself surged out and wrapped itself around her right arm like a rope, catching her in midair. 

 

Strange made a strangled noise, grabbing at the clasp around his neck as the cape pulled Ryan upright, subsequently choking him.  “Hey!  Dumb fu – ghk!” 

 

He wrenched himself free with a gasp.  To Ryan’s shock, the cape floated in midair, hovering between them as Strange caught his breath.

 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you – “

 

“I’m fine,” Strange snapped, cheeks tinged pink.  He glared at the cape, which seemed to look innocently back at him.  “Traitor.”

 

Ryan blinked, then turned to the cape as well.  Were all his clothes sentient?  That sounded… uncomfortable.  “Um, sorry for stepping on you?  I didn’t mean…”

 

“Don’t apologize to it,” Strange grumbled, “it tripped you and nearly choked me.”  He tried to yank the cape back on, but it flew away with a petulant snap of fabric.  “Really?”

 

Ryan giggled, and the cape faced her, collar cocking to the side.  “It’s my fault, really.  Thank you for catching me, I’m super clumsy.”

 

The cape whooshed happily in a circle around her, making her laugh.  It reminded her of a cat, purposely grumpy with its owner, and she reached out to pet it fondly.  Strange rolled his eyes as it nuzzled against her hands.

 

“Are you done?”

 

In response, the cape whirled around Ryan’s shoulders, clasp fixing shut, and suddenly, her feet lifted off the floor, lighter than air.  She screamed in panic, kicking wildly.  “No, no, put me down – !”

 

Immediately, she alighted on the ground, the cape flitting back around Strange’s shoulders, the bulk of it bunching together in shame behind him.  Ryan grasped at her heart, pulse thundering in her ears.

 

“Ryan, are you okay?" Strange said, quick but authoritative.  "Do you feel faint or dizzy?”

 

She shook her head, breath starting to slow.  “I’m fine, I’m fine.  Just terrified of heights.”

 

A snort of laughter, and she glared up at Strange.  He gave her an incredulous look.  “You were two inches off the ground.”

 

“Yeah, well, it surprised me,” Ryan mumbled, cheeks flaming red.  Strange laughed again, and a corner of the cape poked out from around his leg, peering guiltily up at her.

 

“Oh, it’s okay,” she said, kneeling to pet it.  “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.  Just ask next time, alright?”  The cape immediately perked up, wrapping around her hand to shake it, Ryan laughing with delight. 

 

“Seriously?”  Strange huffed as she stood.  “Well.  I see why the Avengers adopted you so easily.” 

 

Ryan couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing.   She slumped against the wall, knees weak with tiredness and lingering adrenaline and laughter.  Strange stared at her like she’d lost her mind. 

 

“Oh, man,” she finally said.  “I have a very long, horrible story to tell you someday.”       

 

He just shook his head.  “Looking forward to it.  Did you need something, by the way?”

 

“I was hoping someone packed food.”

 

In response, Strange gestured down the hall and into a full, gourmet kitchen.  He followed her inside, chuckling as she gaped at cabinet after shelf after minifridge, packed with every kind of snack, fruit, and vegetable she’d ever seen and many she hadn’t.  “He is a king, you know.”

 

Ryan shook her head, grabbing a banana.  “This is more food than I ate from age eleven to now.  I feel like an idiot.”

 

“Why?”

 

She gestured around at everything.  “I don’t even know what half these foods are, never mind that I’m eating them in a goddamn spaceship.  When did we actually invent Star Wars?”

 

Strange laughed, deep and full-bellied as they sat at a table together.  “Don’t worry about that.  They kept their technology secret on purpose.”

 

“Did you already know?”

 

He shook his head.  “That’s how I’m sure it was purposely secret.  Not even the Masters knew.”  He eyed her for a moment, looking pensive.  “Can we continue our deal?”

 

She smiled, surprised but pleased.  “I have about a thousand more questions for you, so sure.  Do you want to go first?”

 

To her greater surprise, he produced a pack of playing cards from a pocket under his cape.  “Yes.  Want to raise the stakes?  My hands need something to do.”

 

Ryan shrugged her good shoulder.  “Sure.”  He quickly shuffled and dealt five cards, laying the deck in the middle.  Ryan frowned; no matchers right off.  “Do you have any threes?”

 

Strange gaped at her.  “Do… do you seriously think we’re playing Go Fish?”

 

She shrugged again.  “I don’t know any other card games.”

 

He blinked, then made a dramatic show of sighing long-sufferingly.  Ryan giggled, and he shook his head.  “No threes, go fish.  When did you meet the Avengers?”

 

Ryan reflexively checked her wrist for the date, but her watch was long gone, lost in the shuffle of running for her life.  She drew a card instead, setting down a match of sevens.  “Uh, just over a year ago.  When did you meet the Masters?”

 

“Just over a year ago,” he replied amusedly.  He asked for an eight, and Ryan sent him to the fish pond to draw.  “You said you’ve had your powers your whole life, ‘sort of’.  What did you mean?”

 

“They came over time.  Telekinesis when I was a baby, telepathy when I was seven, and – and, uh… any queens?” 

 

Ryan’s cheeks flamed as he raised an eyebrow, obviously seeing through her flimsy cover-up.  Yeah, he already knew plenty, but some things were still better left unsaid.  As long as possible, at least.  Her secrets had a way of coming out lately.  He handed over the queen of spades regardless, and Ryan continued, “Anyway.  Not that I’m looking to learn, ‘cause I’m definitely not, but… can anyone do magic, or do you have be…?”

 

“Special?” Strange finished.  “No, thank god.  It’s like anything else.  Study and practice.  Some have natural talent, but a good teacher is better.  And you need a teacher.”  He drew from the pond, laying down aces and drawing again. 

 

He hummed thoughtfully then, eyes flicking down for a second.  “You don’t have to answer this, but.  How did you get those unusual scars on your arms and abdomen?”  At her questioning glance - her arms were bare, her stomach wasn't - Strange added, “When you… retrieved your mates, you fell over and your shirt rode up.  I hid it before anyone saw.”

 

Ryan put down her cards to chew the last bite of banana.  She tossed the peel into a garbage can, gathering her thoughts before she answered.  “Everyone else already knows.  It’s that long, horrible story I mentioned.”  She swallowed reflexively, nerves still frayed from her nightmare.  “A… man wanted me for my powers.  He kidnapped me, put some kind of implant in my arms.  I… cut them out.”

 

Strange blanched and swore, soft but vehement.  “My god.  That’s – Jesus.  You’re lucky to be alive.”

 

“No kidding,” Ryan murmured.  She asked for fives and received, to Strange’s frown.  She had four matches to his one.  “Oh, and the stomach one was Tony.  He shot me with his Iron Man suit.  But we’re friends now, it’s all good.”

 

“You... made friends.  With the guy who shot you.”  He snorted, shaking his head.  “I shouldn’t be surprised.  You probably have weekly tea with the kidnapper.”

 

A surge of emotion swept through her at his words.  Lingering guilt, horror, disgust, but at the forefront was rage.  “He’s _dead_ ,” she snapped, slamming her cards on the table with a bang.  “And that fucking bastard deserved it.”

 

Strange immediately held up his hands.  “I’m sorry, I – I’m sorry.  That was a horrible joke, I didn’t think.”

 

Quick as it came, the anger bled away.  Ryan slumped back in her chair.  “It’s okay.  It’s just…”

 

“Long and horrible?” Strange supplied, and she nodded.  “I won’t mention it again.  And I'll... let you get some rest.”

 

He made to stand up, but Ryan stopped him with a smile.  “Hey, it’s my turn to ask a question.  No ditching when you’re behind.” 

 

He nodded once, slowly, and sat again.  For a while, they just played, the only questions for card numbers and answers ‘go fish’.  Later, when she had seven matches and he four, Ryan said, “So, you can just… go ghost?  How’s that work?”

 

“Not _ghost_ ,” Strange said huffily, but his eyes were amused.  “Astral projection.”

 

“Oh, right.  Astral projection.  Duh.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Whatever.  Your mind left your body, it scared the hell out of me.”

 

He shrugged, not looking sorry at all.  “It has its uses.  It let me study in my sleep in Kamar-Taj.”

 

Ryan’s mind was screaming _NERD!!!_  and she bit her lip to keep it back.  Strange gave her a dry, flat look, like he knew but was ignoring it.  “I can’t do it right now anyway.  You somehow managed to lock my form when you shoved me back in.”

 

“Oh, shit – I’m sorry, I didn’t know – “

 

He waved the hand not holding his cards.  “I’ll figure it out.  What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever done with your powers, and do you have any sixes?”

 

“Held an entire hotel in midair, and yes,” she answered, holding out the card.

 

He froze in place, hand hovering between them.  “A whole building, just with your powers?”  At her nod, he took the card, slowly setting down the match.  “You can have two questions next.  Have you trained with your powers?  Strengthening them, or…?”

 

Ryan shook her head.  “Only Jane can study my powers, and we’ve just tried to figure out how they work.” 

 

“Jane?”

 

“Foster, the astrophysicist.  Normally she’s around, but she and Thor went to Asgard right before all this started.”  She chuckled darkly, drawing a nine when her next request was denied.  “They’re coming back to a shitshow.  I feel bad.”

 

Just then, footsteps interrupted them. Around the corner, Bucky came into view, heading towards the kitchen.  When he reached the doorway, he and Ryan locked eyes, and they both froze in place. 

 

For a moment, he didn’t speak.  Then, softly, “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” she whispered back. 

 

Bucky swallowed once.  Then, he continued inside, passing her to grab a huge box of protein bars.  Ryan watched, tongue tied and heart in her throat.

 

On his way back, though, Bucky peered conspicuously over Strange’s shoulder.  “Ask for fives.”

 

Strange made a noise of protest, hiding his cards against his chest.  Ryan’s mouth stretched in a smile, unbidden, and Bucky smiled back.  Then, on his way out, he brushed a hand over her shoulder.  It left her staring after him, skin tingling where he’d touched.

 

“Here,” Strange said, breaking her trance by handing over the five.  “Your two questions.”

 

Right.  Their game.  “Well, I’ve been wondering what your necklace is for.  I’m kinda hoping it’s not just aesthetic.”

 

That made him laugh, drawing again on his next ask.  He rested the eye-shaped amulet in hand as he answered, weighing it in his palm.  “I can’t tell you.  Not that I don’t… trust you,” he added, sounding surprised.  “I do, actually.  And I’m not too big to admit that’s unusual for me.  But it’s powerful, and the fewer people who know, the less trouble it can start.”

 

“Sounds kinda silly to wear it around your neck then.”

 

Strange laughed again.  “You’re not wrong.  Second question?”

 

She hesitated a moment before asking.  This was what she’d been waiting for, scrounging up the courage sentence by sentence.  She needed to know.  “Are… my powers magic?”

 

He blew out a slow breath, then asked for an ace.  They played a couple more rounds, until Ryan had thirteen matches and he had ten.  Only six cards left, and it was his turn.  Ryan sat on the edge of her seat, trying to keep from jiggling her leg.

 

At last, he looked her in the eye.  “No.  And… yes.”  

 

Well, that’s helpful as shit, she thought ungraciously.  It must’ve showed on her face, because Strange added, “It’s irresponsible to speculate.  Doctor’s training.”  He shrugged.  “But, magic is… well, my teacher said it’s like the source code of the universe.”

 

“Sorry, but don’t I know anything about computers.”

 

He waved it off.  “Never liked metaphors anyway.  Demonstrations are more effective.”

 

He laid his cards on the table.  Ryan put hers down too, watching his hands weave odd shapes, their orange light glowing bright.  With a small poof, a ruby-red apple dropped into his hand.  He took a casual bite, then offered the other side to her. 

 

“A magic apple?  Really?”

 

Strange chuckled.  “That’s why I took the first bite.”

 

Ryan smiled, then took a crisp, solid bite, the fruit sweet and juicy and fresh.  No fairy-tale-style curses, thankfully.  Still, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she swallowed.  “That didn’t look like your portal from before.  But you didn’t make it out of nothing, right?”

 

His eyebrows jumped in surprise.  “Correct.  Good.  How did I make it?”

 

Ryan thought hard for a minute.  It’d been years since physics class, but most of her friends were world-renowned scientists.  She could come up with something.  “Okay, so… energy can’t be created or destroyed, just changed.  Apples have… food energy?  And they’re made of matter, and matter also can’t be made from nothing.  So… you used magic energy to change one kind of matter and energy into another?” 

 

Strange’s eyebrows rose even higher, but he smiled wide, looking genuinely impressed.  “Very good.  That’s the… basic gist of what I did there.”

 

“Oh.”  She was more surprised than he that she’d said anything intelligent.  “Well.  I get why you said yes and no, then.”

 

He nodded sagely.  “You used your powers without seeming to expend your own energy.  So we can be reasonably sure you’re utilizing an outside source, like me.”

 

Ryan chuckled.  “Yeah, Jane figured that out in approximately three seconds.  If… if you want to talk with her about my powers sometime, you can.  As long as – “

 

“Completely confidential, of course.  Medical research rules.”

 

That wasn’t as reassuring as he obviously hoped, given her history with so-called “medical research”.  Hell, she’d just rescued half the duo who’d technically stolen her blood.  The thought made her chuckle.  “That’s how I met Agent Fitz, you know.  He and his mate did illegal experiments on me.” 

 

“…And, naturally, you just saved his life.”  Strange shook his head.  “Everything happens to you, doesn’t it?”

 

“It’s my fault, really.  I think I have terrible taste in friends.”

 

That cracked them both up, laughter filling the room.  After a minute, Ryan picked up her last card, and Strange asked for a four.  She grinned, shook her head, and won the game with three final matches in a row.  It was about time.  Good luck eventually had to come her way, right?  Frankly, she was overdue.

 

At last, Strange gathered up the cards, shuffling idly.  “I have one more question.”

 

“That’s not good.  I still have tons.”

 

“Oh, there’s more.  But I haven’t slept yet, so unless you’re interested in continuing with my ‘ghost’...”

 

Ryan shivered involuntarily.  “Sorry, but I’m glad you can’t do that right now.  It’s creepy as hell.”

 

Strange conceded with a small smile.  “Regardless.  You haven’t mentioned any family besides your mates and Clint.”

 

“He’s not technically…”

 

“I figured.  But, blood relation – parents, siblings, distant cousins…?”

 

Ryan closed her eyes.  It wasn’t painful, exactly, to talk about her parents anymore.  A healing bruise, not an open wound.  But it’d take someone a lot stronger and wiser not to miss them as much as she still did.  “No siblings.  But I guess I do have distant cousins now,” she noted.  “I met one in San Francisco yesterday.”

 

“…of course you did.”

 

“Hey, I have never said my life makes any sense,” Ryan said, laughing.  She sobered up at her next answer, though.  “My parents are gone.  They both died in the Towers when I was eleven.”

 

Strange didn’t reply.  The ensuing silence was more understanding than awkward.  But Ryan had a feeling that wasn’t what he’d truly wanted to know.

 

“ _Mi papá_ _fue de_ _México_ ,” she murmured.  “He was a firefighter, and played guitar and rode his motorcycle with Mom on the weekends.  He… was always so happy, every day.  He called me _angelita_.  Everyone I’d ever met loved him.  He brought me to my first Red Sox game.

 

“Mom was from Ireland, and she liked classical music and ‘80s movies and onion rings.  She… I think she was a genius, and I never really knew.  She and Dad were both young – Mom was 23, he was 24 when they had me – but she got this top executive job in New York, number-crunching or something.  She had this giant office, way up high.  But she always had time for me at home.”

 

She looked up from staring at the table.  “They were normal.  No reason their kid got superpowers.”

 

Strange nodded slowly.  Then, he stuck out his right hand across the table.  “Good game.”

 

Ryan shook it.  “Good game.”

 

But when he reached the door, Ryan called out, “Stephen?” 

 

He turned around.  “Books, and movies, and… stories and stuff, about magic.  They always say it comes at some sort of price.  Is it true?”

 

He smiled, gentle and a little sad.  “No more than the cost of your power.”

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

Sam found her asleep – sans nightmares, thankfully – in the lounge a few hours later, this time to say they’d landed.  Ryan splashed some water on her face, grimaced at her greasy hair, and followed Sam to the front of the plane.

 

The second the ramp lowered, Ryan grabbed the collar of her shirt, fanning herself.  “Oh god, it’s hot!”

 

It was a huge, sprawling urban jungle in August, more accurately.  They were on an elevated landing pad on the edge of an enormous city, nestled in the cradle of tall, lush mountains reaching to the crystal sky.  Down a short path towards a mountain's base stood an honest-to-God palace, ornate architecture somehow both modern and ancient shining bronze-gold in the summer sun. 

 

In the city proper, air-rail trains slithered around hundreds of skyscrapers, curiously round-edged instead of square; a few looked more like enormous beehives than buildings, all a muted gray-brown rather than silver-black.  A thin river ran through the center of the city, and familiar blue urban mugginess hung in the air.  Despite the haze, and that it was thick as chowder in her lungs, the air smelled fairly clean.  Incredibly, theirs wasn’t the only spaceship to cut through it, midair highways dotted with floating traffic down below. 

 

It had a certain beauty, Ryan had to admit.  But if she was being honest, she liked grass much more than pavement.  The mountains circling them were the nicest part.  There was one city she’d really loved, yeah, but it was half the world away now. 

 

Huh.  This was her official first foray out of the U.S.  As she followed Sam onto the tarmac to the others, sweat dripping down her back, she wished it’d been Ireland more than ever.

 

Bucky stood next to Steve, who was laid out on a stretcher.  Ryan went to Bucky’s other side, looking at the ground to keep from staring at him.  In the corner of her eye, his fingertips twitched, hanging inches from hers. 

 

“Hey,” she murmured.

 

“Hey,” he replied.  “Did you sleep?”

 

She nodded.  “Did you?”

 

He shook his head.  “Didn’t need to.  Won’t for another day or two.”

 

Right.  Steve needed a little every night, but Bucky just needed food for a few days’ stretch, if he pushed himself.  Must be nice, she thought.  Can’t have nightmares if you don’t sleep.

 

“Welcome, all,” T’Challa announced, spreading his arms.  “Wakanda’s hospitality is yours – “

 

The snap of heels on stone interrupted him.  Ryan peered behind him to see a retinue of women approaching.  A dozen or so were more tribal-clad, bald-headed warriors, but the leader was an older woman sporting an elaborate headdress, white robes flowing like rivers in her wake.  A teenage girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, walked beside her, and Ryan was startled to see her face dotted all over with small, white piercings. 

 

The last woman, hidden at first behind the warriors, pushed to the front of the group when they were a few yards away.  Ryan’s eyes widened as she came into view.  She was startlingly beautiful, dark skin flawless, short, textured hair an attractive frame for a finely sculptured face.  She had the body of the warriors as well, long and lithe, and Ryan didn’t blame T’Challa for his mouth dropping open at the sight of her.

 

“Whoa,” Ryan muttered, and Bucky glanced sideways at her.

 

“What’s wrong?” he breathed, just loud enough for her to hear.

 

Ryan quickly shook her head.  “Nothing.  Just… besides Anika, that’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Eh.  Not my type,” Bucky said.  Then, he furrowed his brows at her.  “Who the hell’s Anika?”

 

In a rush of embarrassment, Ryan stiffened up, cheeks already flushed from heat burning brighter.  Too late, she realized she’d never told them this story.  “Oh.  Um… when I was in D.C., before I came back… I got hit on in a bar.  By a… stupidly gorgeous woman.  Without realizing it.”

 

Bucky’s mouth clamped shut, lips pressed tight, chest vibrating with repressed laughter.  Ryan dropped her gaze to the ground, chuckling a little herself.  She looked back up, though, when his hand across brushed the back of hers, soft as a whisper.

 

“Mother,” T’Challa called, nodding to the woman in white.  “It’s wonderful to see you.  As you can see, there has been a… new development.”

 

_A new develo_ – oh my god, Ryan thought in alarm.  Did T’Challa not tell anyone yet?!  She looked like their king’s murderer!  

 

Bucky and Strange had the same reaction.  Casually, Bucky shifted a half-step in front of her, metal hand resting lightly on the railing of Steve’s gurney.  Strange’s cape rippled without any wind, eyes darting across the scene.  Sam, meanwhile, gave them all sharp looks from the side, though his right hand twitched restlessly by his thigh holster.

 

“I would hope so,” T'Challa's mother said coldly, “or else I would wonder why my husband’s killer stands alive before me.”  She leveled a frosty glare at Ryan, who forced herself to keep eye contact, heart thumping in her throat.      

 

“Same, brother,” the teenager added.  “Also, this is more white boys than I normally see in a year.”

 

“Shuri – “

 

“There’s an explanation, I’m sure,” the pretty one said, eyeing T’Challa with a touch of exasperation.  “Yes?”

 

“Nakia,” T’Challa breathed.  Then, he paused an extremely long time, frozen, staring.  Finally, he said, “Hi.”

 

Oh my _god_ , Ryan thought desperately.  This guy’s crush was gonna get her killed!

 

“Ma’am,” Sam suddenly spoke up, striding forward.  The warrior women moved as one, spears whipping to aim at his heart, but Sam just put his hands up in the air as T’Challa waved them down.  “My name’s Sam Wilson.  I – "

 

One of the warriors, positioned in front and adorned with gold, interrupted with a snarl.  “You will address her as Your Majesty.  Stand back, or you will no longer stand.”

 

Sam obeyed, taking a single step back.  “Apologies, Your Majesty.  Americans don’t know much about monarchies anymore.”

 

T’Challa’s mother gave him a curious look.  “What do you have to say, Mr. Wilson?”

 

“Mother, I can – "

 

“I asked our guest a question, my son,” she said smoothly.  “Wakanda’s first outsiders in generations should speak for themselves.”             

 

Sam took a deep breath.  “Your son offered us sanctuary, in repayment for the violence he and his guards committed against us.  And because Ryan saved his life, even though she wasn’t able to save your king’s.  It’s a long story – ”

 

“And the Tribal Council will hear it.  It is they who will decide your fate,” she inserted.  “After… you wash.”  She looked at Ryan again with distaste, and Ryan had the childish urge to give her a true Bostonian reply of _fuck you too, lady_.    

 

T’Challa’s mother turned back to him then.  “Welcome home, T’Challa.  I am overjoyed to see you safe.”  Briskly, she turned on her heel and marched away, the guards, Shuri, and Nakia following. 

 

After they left, T’Challa turned back around, a slight note of shame in his voice.  “Wakanda doesn’t often welcome outsiders.  They would not have allowed us entry, had I said you were coming.  But I am now head of the Tribal Council.  I will inform them fully of the situation.  This is merely a… formality.”

 

None of them replied.  Bucky had a look of sheer murder on his face, so much so that Ryan instinctively took his hand.  He didn’t look at her, focused on T’Challa, but he squeezed it ever-so-gently.

 

An awkward few moments later, T’Challa said, “Come.  There will be rooms ready for Captain Rogers, and for all of you to… freshen up.”

 

He headed in the direction of the palace.  As they followed him, Ryan went to Sam.  “Thanks for speaking up.  That took guts.”

 

Sam shook his head.  “Yeah, for all it did.  Still, after that white people jab, we should probably let me do the talking.  I might get a modicum more respect than you.”

 

“Would it help if I told them I’m only half-white?”

 

Sam chuckled, and he and Ryan dropped back to Strange’s side next.  Bucky followed, still wheeling Steve, until they all walked in a line together.  “If we needed to,” she muttered, careful to look only straight ahead, “could you get us out of here?  You know, portal-style?”

 

He nodded once, and the bottom of his cape fluttered against her legs for a second.  “We can’t let them split us up.  It’ll complicate things quickly.”  He fiddled with his tunic belt, pulling out a two-finger ring and sliding it onto his left hand.  “Let’s try not to need it.  I don’t trust them to not try to replicate the effect.”

 

Ryan sighed.  The most technologically advanced country in the world, apparently full of outsider-hating nationalists, gaining teleportation magic?  Yeah, that’d suck.  “Bucky?”

 

“Mm?” 

 

“I think we might need to wake up Steve.”

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

They had just reached the front of the palace, complete with stone courtyard and fountain, when a whining roar like rockets or engines flew low overhead.  Ryan glanced up, expecting another spaceship, but her mouth dropped open instead.  “Guys!”

 

Everyone whirled around see Iron Man touch down, red and gold suit shining bright.  With a casual touch to his wrist, the whole suit folded itself away into practically nothing, disappearing into an ordinary wristwatch.  Tony straightened out his jacket and tie, popping on a pair of aviators with a rogue, crooked grin.

 

“Hey, fam.  What’d I miss?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think I know anyone who ships Bruce/Sam, but honestly? I think they’d be really sweet together! Also lol @ at Tony, drama boy always needs an entrance.
> 
> I'm going to try to keep up writing quicker than I have been. Thanks for the love! <3


	15. In Which The Tribal Council Convenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Tony’s in Wakanda, and in typical Tony fashion, has a terrible first meeting with Strange. Ryan’s stressed to hell and almost has a panic attack, but Bucky’s an expert in random PTSD triggers by now. The Tribal Council convenes, and they’re not happy, but it’s not exactly the first time Ryan’s won over a tough crowd. As always, though, nothing really goes according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End-of-last-chapter recap: The gang spent a long night on T'Challa's plane getting to Wakanda, but when they land, the rest of the Wakandans aren't happy to see them. The Queen announced Ryan will face the judgment of the Tribal Council, and they will determine her fate.  
>  
> 
> Fun fact: I know Benedict Cumberbatch uses an American accent as Dr. Strange, but my brain can’t fully comprehend it after literally only seeing him as Sherlock for a few years before that, so I have to keep editing out British syntax whenever I write Strange’s dialogue here hahaha. His voice in my head as I write is some weird amalgamation of British and American speech too, it’s bad.

 

 

 

_“Tony!_ ”

 

Ryan tore forward and tackled him in a hug.  He stumbled back, almost falling, but caught them at the last second, chuckling.

 

“Heya, kiddo. You’re ruining my cool-guy image, geez.”  He hugged her back anyway, arms tight around her waist.

 

“Are you okay? I haven’t seen you since – “

 

“Since I realized I should’ve taken out a bigger insurance policy against terrorist attacks?”  Ryan pulled back, frowning in worry, but Tony rolled his eyes.  “We’re fine, Ryan. Me and Pep.”

 

“Thank god,” Ryan sighed.  “Wait, wait – are she and Bruce by themselves? What if – !”

 

“Oh my g – okay, alright.”  Tony whipped off his sunglasses and gripped her good shoulder, staring her head on.  “Bruce is watching out for Pepper, and Pepper’s watching out for the Hulk.  While we’re here on our forced vacay, they are squirreled away in the secret bunker lovechild of Fort Knox and a Swiss bank.  I’ve got people keeping an eye on the Tower – and New York in general – while we’re gone.  Romanov sent me to make sure the Wakandans don’t start more shit while Grandpa’s napping and Buck-a-boo’s head is all bucked-up.”

 

Ryan gave him a dry look, but he squeezed her shoulder, face uncharacteristically grave.  “Now, would you please worry about the important things for a minute? Namely, keeping your very pretty head attached to your neck?  I have no idea how they do executions here, but since their king’s dead, I’m feeling it’s medieval.”

 

Ice ran down Ryan’s spine.  Then, a dark, furious sound like a wolf’s primal growl shoved between her and Tony, Bucky’s scent fiercely protective.

 

“ _Enough_ ,” he snarled, and his eyes flashed bright gold before fading back to brown.

 

Tony put up his hands, but an eyebrow quirked with interest.  “Yeah, Nat mentioned your glow-up, Sparkles.”  Then, he raised the other brow, looking pointedly over Bucky’s shoulder.  “Did _not_ mention a Ren Faire reject joining the squad, though.  You selling something, buddy?”

 

Ryan followed Tony’s gaze over to Strange, who, to his credit, looked only mildly irritated at Tony’s rudeness.  Not exactly the best first impression, though – why wouldn’t Natasha have mentioned – ?

 

Oh, boy. No, Ryan knew why.  It was the reason Sam was pulling out his phone, grinning in undisguised glee as he started filming.  Why Bucky was rolling his eyes, despite them being lit with amusement.  Why, if Clint were here, he’d be rolling on the ground laughing already.

 

Natasha could be a little shit sometimes, when she thought it would be funny.

 

“Right, you two haven’t met yet,” Ryan inserted, stepping between them.  “Tony, this is Dr. Stephen Strange.  Stephen, this is Tony Stark – “

 

“ _Doctor?”_ Tony said, sounding far too close to laughter.  “Alright, first off, I’ve got two PhDs and no one ever introduces me as Dr. Stark, what’s up with that? Second, what’s your degree in, pal, textile crimes?  Underwater basket weaving?”

 

“Tony – !”

 

“Dual M.D.-Ph.D. on novel neurocognitive reconstruction and advances in non-invasive surgical laminectomy techniques,” Strange said smoothly.  “Douchebag.”

 

Ryan face-palmed.  Bucky had joined Sam to snicker together, and she couldn’t even appreciate that they were messing with someone else instead of each other for once.  “Guys, please – “

 

“Ri-ight,” Tony said, drawing out the sound in disbelief.  “So, what, you mastered the brain and got bored?  Wandered off to the Himalayas, found nirvana?”

 

“Kathmandu, and magic, actually.”

 

Deafening silence.  Ryan held her breath, eyes darting like a ping-pong ball between Strange and Tony.  Strange wore a smug, haughty smirk, standing tall in challenge.  Tony, meanwhile, stared incredulously at Strange, looked to Ryan, who nodded quickly, then back to Strange.

 

“Bull-fucking- _shit_ ,” Tony said, and Strange threw his hands in the air.

 

“Thank you!”  He shot Ryan a pointed look.  “ _That_ is the appropriate response, by the way.”

 

“Guys, please,” Ryan begged, barely keeping from rolling her eyes, “we have to – “

 

“What did you – what did he tell you?” Tony demanded, turning to Ryan.  He took a half-step in front of her, one arm held out protectively as he radiated fury at Strange.  “Look, whatever mumbo-jumbo you’re peddling – “

 

“Close, but it’s pronounced ‘magic’,” Strange inserted, “not sure where you got the ‘umbo’ sound from – “

 

“Pal, you’re obviously on the good stuff right now, and much as I hate to drag a good high down, you’re _not_ a wizard, Harry, ‘cause there’s no such fucking thing.”

 

Strange started to laugh, Tony’s sneer grew deeper, and Ryan was about to intervene again when Bucky’s metal hand brushed softly down her arm.  Gently, he guided her back by the elbow next to Steve, still on his stretcher. She followed without resisting.

 

“Let them be,” he murmured.  “They’ll tire each other out eventually.”

 

“We can’t just – !”

 

“Sweetheart, this might be the only time we ever see Stark be dead wrong about something.  Enjoy it.”

 

Ryan had every intention of arguing, but stalled out at the endearment rolling so easily off his tongue.  Half of her wanted to soak in it like a hot spring, until the cold horror at what she’d done to him on that roof in San Francisco finally leached out of her bones.  The other half wondered what sweet nothing he’d called Peggy Carter right before they kissed.

 

She compromised by ignoring him.  “Come on, you two!” she shouted, holding out her good arm placatingly.  “Tony, Stephen, please – we have enough problems right – !“

 

“Tell me, _Dr. Stark_ ,” Strange said, “isn’t the whole point of research and technology to expand our understanding?  Better our lives, see more, know more?  So here I am, offering insight into a world you’ve never imagined – and you reject it completely?”

 

“No, actually, I reject this entire conversation!” Tony said, voice raising to a shout.  “There’s no such thing as fairy tales, or magic, or happily ever after, _the end_ – because if there were, none of us would be here!  Someone like Ryan wouldn’t be running for her life, _again_ – terrorists wouldn’t still be fucking up the whole damn world – and there’d be no one dead under the hotel I built for the only father I ever really had!”

 

Ringing silence, this time.  Tony’s breath was harsh pants, hands shaking in fists at his sides.  Strange’s mouth had dropped open like a fish, agape in shock.  Ryan and Bucky stood frozen, stunned.  Sam slowly lowered his phone, pain and sympathy mixing in an all-too-familiar misery.

 

For a split second, Tony opened his mouth, looking like he meant to continue – but it snapped shut the next, and he stormed off towards the palace doors alone.

 

Strange watched him go, looking shaken.  He turned back to the others, eyes wide. “I – “

 

“Don’t,” Ryan said, and his mouth clamped shut.  “Just – we’re all going to go inside, and wash up, and deal with whatever this Tribal Council’s gonna do to me, and” – she jabbed a finger at Strange – “and you’re not allowed to talk right now!”

 

She grabbed one arm of Steve’s stretcher and tugged him away, Bucky guiding the other side as they left.

 

 

* * *    * * *    * * *

 

 

A stone-faced attendant silently directed them to an opulent suite, and Bucky laid Steve on a huge, pillowy bed as Ryan went into the bathroom.  The white marble shower looked large enough to run laps in, heaps of fluffy towels and fancy soaps in woven baskets beside.  After the past few days, it was heavenly, and she popped open the cap of a shampoo bottle to smell as she puzzled out which knob turned on the water.

 

Then she froze, terror surging through her when she caught the shape of a white, claw-footed tub in the corner.  Spider-plant tendrils dripped down the sides, the scent of rose petals suffocating in her nose.  Her heart pounded painfully, panic shortening her breath.  Shit, first the nightmares, now this – _no, no, stop it_ – that place was gone, _he_ was –

 

“Ryan?”

 

She screamed, whirling around, but it was only Bucky, brows furrowed with concern.  His gaze darted from the tub to her, landing on the rose-colored bottle in her hands, and understanding sparked in his eyes.  With a firm stride, he grabbed a towel and flung it over the tub's spout and handles, then yanked the bottle right from her hands.

 

To her surprise, he went back out into the bedroom.  Ryan followed to see him head straight past Steve on the bed and out onto a balcony, smooth tan stone with a gorgeous view of the mountains and clear, cloudless sky.  Bucky leapt nimbly atop the wide railing, metal arm shining in the sun, wind rippling his hair.

 

Then, with a guttural yell, he hurled the shampoo bottle out into the blue, launching so far and fast it disappeared in a blink.

 

Ryan stared, stunned.  He hopped back down and strolled back inside, giving her a small, crooked smirk.

 

“What’s that the kids say these days?” he said.  “’Yeet’?”

 

Ryan laughed so hard her knees went weak.  She clutched at a dresser to keep upright, doubled over and gasping.  Bucky was laughing too, hands nearby to catch her if she needed it.

 

When she finally calmed down, she looked up at her mate.  He was smiling gently down at her, brown eyes warm and sad and longing.  She melted at that gaze, wanting nothing more than to grab him tight and forget everything else.

 

Instead, she took a deep breath.  His scent filled her nose, crisp pine and fresh water and her Bucky, better than any fancy shampoo could ever be.  “We need to talk.”

 

He nodded slowly.  “Not sure there’s time right now,” he murmured, but drifted in towards her, like he couldn’t help but draw closer.  His hands hovered near her waist, carefully not touching, but Ryan could practically feel the warmth on her skin.

 

She nodded, too.  “I should shower,” she whispered.  Neither of them moved.  For a few moments, the only sounds were their breaths, wind rustling through leaves, the soft calls of birds outside and far away.

 

She couldn’t stand it. She pulled away, stepping back from him.  His arms dropped back to his side.  “Thanks,” she said, looking away into a wall, “for – for doing that.”

 

“Always,” he said softly, and Ryan hurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

 

* * *    * * *    * * *

 

Later, Bucky was showering as Ryan dug through the dressers and closets.  There was a multitude of clothes in her size – thank god, bras again at last, her ribs ached like crazy from wearing that binder too long – but the styles were unfamiliar.  Everything was patterned, geometric shapes, some even reminding her of Strange’s magic.  Some had half a dozen colors in stripes, some were monochromatic with beaded designs, but every dress looked like the most expensive garment she’d ever worn.

 

But that was the thing – Bucky and Steve had button shirts, suit pants and jackets, both formal, modern cut and looser, casual options – but there were only dresses for her.  Apparently flannels and jeans never made their way over here.  There were dozens of dresses, though, and she had no idea where to start.

 

Well, the majority had high necklines, some even with turtlenecks, but only a few had long sleeves.  She laid those out on the bed, and only one had long sleeves that weren’t sheer.  Perfect.  She didn’t feel like having people stare her scars today.

 

Thankfully, it was a soft royal blue, a decent color for her.  Modern, too, light fabric with a high-low skirt and silvery lines forming abstract shapes like flowing water.  Even better, there was a pair of thin leggings on the hangar, and Ryan searched the closet floor for shoes next.

 

She slammed the doors shut, though, when all she found were tall, sophisticated heels. She took a deep, slow breath, leaning against the wall for support.  A secluded paradise, an opulent home that screamed wealth and power, beautiful scenery and gorgeous dresses and sky-high stilettos and tailored suits –

 

– and none of them could leave. This was getting too familiar, too quick.

 

She’d just finished tugging her ratty, stinky sneakers back on when Bucky came back into the bedroom, toweling off his hair.

 

He paused when he saw her.  “Not that you don’t look beautiful, but you don’t like dresses.”

 

“It’s all they gave me,” Ryan said, fighting a rising blush at the compliment.  “And they’d probably be super offended if I wore the jeans and t-shirt Jess gave me three days ago.”

 

He eyed her sneakers for a second, then huffed a dark laugh, throwing on the first suit he found in the closet.  “They already hate us for enough, I guess.  Still, you do look beautiful.”

 

A knock on the door interrupted them.  Bucky ran a hand through his hair as he went to answer, one pass molding it into an artful, sexy swoop.  Ryan ran a hand through her hair, now shorn as short as Bucky’s, and it looked like a pissed-off cat after falling in a bathtub.  Great.  Just perfect.

 

“It’s time,” Bucky said, coming back in.  She watched, heart aching, as he went to Steve’s side and muttered something in Gaelic, brushing his knuckles down his cheekbone.  Then he turned back to Ryan, frowned, finger-combed her hair to a semblance of order, and took her hand as they left, locking the door behind them.

 

“Wait, who’s watching Steve?” Ryan whispered.  They were following the same attendant from before down a myriad of hallways, and the further they went from their mate, the more her stomach twisted.

 

Bucky shook his head, scent briefly flaring with frustration.  “No one.  Strange has to vouch for that Wanda girl’s existence, Wilson’s the only witness they might believe, and Stark’s got leverage as a future business partner.”

 

Ryan didn’t bother pointing out that he could stay with Steve.  They both knew Steve’d be the first to say he should be left behind.  Guess they were listening this time.

 

Bucky swallowed once.  “They know who I am.  They won’t touch Steve.  I’d kill them all if they did.”

 

She might’ve imagined it, but Ryan swore the attendant hurried a little faster in front of them.

 

Clutching Bucky’s hand, they emerged into a huge, high-ceilinged atrium, all stone columns and spilling greenery and colored glass.  Across the way stood a vast pair of obsidian doors, emblazoned with carvings of panthers’ heads, so lifelike the eyes glittered dangerously.  The others were already there, Sam long-suffering in the middle as Tony and Strange stood a half-dozen yards apart, staring broodily at opposite walls.  Sam sported a fresh jacket and trousers in an attractive shade of maroon, but Tony wore the same, perfect suit, Strange his tunic and cape.

 

The attendant disappeared as everyone met in the middle, but a lingering, creeping sensation like eyes on her back made Ryan shudder, glancing at nothing over her shoulder.  There had to be guards watching them, even if she couldn’t see.  The thought twisted her stomach.  Forget a gilded cage, they were mice in a maze – lost, trapped, far from home, watched from above as they faced some test only their jailers knew how to solve. And time was running out.

 

“I’ve got a gameplan,” Sam was saying as she turned back around, “but the suggestion box’s open.”

 

He looked to Tony, who assumed his usual confident smirk.  It was a little less convincing than normal.  “Please.  Their goddamn king’s a witness.  What could go wrong?”

 

The last part was tinged with sarcasm.  Ryan’s heart sank as Bucky glared at Tony, then looked to Sam.

 

“This isn’t a trial. It’s a ‘formality’,” Bucky spat, and Ryan remembered T’Challa’s words from earlier.  Clearing her name was what he’d implied, but the Council was obviously thinking ‘excuse for revenge’.

 

“I know,” Sam said.  “But they didn’t straight-out attack on the tarmac when we arrived.  They’ll hear us out.”

 

“Ryan,” Strange said suddenly.  “Can I talk to you?”

 

Ryan glanced at Tony and Sam, both with shuttered expressions, then to Strange.  “We’re all here together, Stephen. We can talk to everyone.”

 

His eyes flickered to Tony, but he nodded.  “First things first. How’s your shoulder?”

 

Ryan rotated it carefully, and it hurt, but not terribly.  “Better. I don’t think it needs the sling anymore.”

 

“Good. Try to keep it rested, if you can.”

 

“Try to reach the goddamn point, if you can,” Tony grumbled, rolling his eyes at a stern look from Sam.

 

Strange sighed, closing his eyes briefly, then looked Ryan square on.  “If,” he murmured, so quiet she had to lean in, “if this… goes wrong.  I can’t use my abilities to help you.”

 

Immediately, Bucky, Sam and Tony started shouting over each other. Bucky snarled with rage, Tony with biting sarcasm, and Sam with surprised anger.  Ryan just sighed.  She was so tired.

 

Briskly, she grabbed Strange by the elbow and tugged him forward. “Give us a minute, guys,” she called over her shoulder, marching Strange across the room towards a windowed alcove studded with potted plants.  Brushing aside fern fronds, she looked up at Strange.  He looked her in the eye, face carefully unreadable.  “You first,” she said.

 

He took a deep breath.  “I know what I said before. To you and Clint,” he said.  “And I swear on my life that I meant it.  But I made a promise when I joined the Masters, too.  We’re meant to protect the world from supernatural dangers.  I can’t use my abilities on ordinary people.  It… sets a very dangerous precedent.”

 

Ryan nodded slowly.  He certainly wasn’t wrong.  But neither was protecting everyone she loved.  Sometimes, both sides in an argument were right.  “Alright. I get it.”

 

Strange’s eyes widened, mouth opening.  Then, he shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.  “You are… absolutely crazy.”

 

She gave him a dry look.  “I’ve had worse compliments, I guess.”

 

“You probably deserved them,” he said, huffing a laugh.  “Why the hell are you okay with this?  Your brother would’ve stabbed me already.”

 

The thought shouldn’t be funny, but Ryan couldn’t stop a wry half-smile.  “Yeah, well. It’s not the first time I’ve been on my own. I’ll be fine.”

 

She made to leave, but Strange stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “I’m still a witness.  I’ll corroborate what you saw with the twins.  And… you don’t need my help.  You’re more powerful than all them together.”

 

Ryan laughed darkly, eyes dropping to the floor. “You know, people keep telling me stuff like that. If it were true, wouldn’t everyone be at _my_ mercy, instead of the other way around?” 

 

“Ryan.” She met his gaze, hard, somber, and grave.  It chilled her to the core. “We are.” 

 

With that, he strode back to where the others were waiting.  Ryan followed after a moment, reaching for Bucky’s hand when she got close.  He took it automatically, his familiar, calloused palm sliding into hers.  It was a small comfort.

 

“New plan,” she said, before anyone else spoke up. “Sam, Tony, you guys should take Steve and leave with Stephen.”

 

“C’mon, Ryan, no,” Sam said at the same time Tony said, “Not a chance in hell.”

 

“Ryan, I didn’t mean – “ Strange started, but she cut him off.

 

“There’s no reason for any of you to stay.”  Colder than she’d meant, but it was true.  “You guys are only in any danger if you stick around, and it’s not worth it.  We know who blew up the Edwin Hotel now, so you guys can get Steve safe and go after Wanda and Pietro instead.”

 

Tony opened his mouth, but Sam jabbed a finger at him.  “No, I’m first. Ryan,” he said, turning to her, “you are one of us now.  We all might be a little split up at the moment, but we don’t leave people behind.  Especially just to save our own skins.”

 

“Half your defense against _regicide_ rests on us,” Strange added, “you can’t – “

 

“Twenty-four hours ago, you didn’t even know who I was!” Ryan shouted, rounding on him.  “You came for Wanda and Pietro, not me!  You’re all going to leave eventually, so _just go!”_

 

A moment of silence met her. Then, Tony snorted. “Careful, Green.  Your abandonment issues are showing.”

 

Ryan gasped, fury sparking in her veins, but Tony crowded into her space, hard determination in his gaze.  “Ryan, I am a certified fucking genius.  You know what that means?  I don’t make the same mistakes twice.  Not anymore.  So if _anyone_ tries to pin their prejudice and fear on you again, they’re going through me.”

 

“And me,” Sam declared.  He glanced at Bucky.  “Nothing to add?”

 

Bucky shrugged.  “Knew you weren’t leaving.  Knew she’d figure it out, too.” 

 

“Gee, thanks,” Ryan spat, yanking her hand from his.  She made to stalk away, but Bucky blocked her path, eyes burning with conviction.

 

“I will do everything,” he growled, “ _everything_ it takes to keep you safe.  Right now, that means they stay.”

 

“This is their only chance to get out safe – you heard their Queen, she doesn’t even believe her own son!  We’re not trading their lives for mine!”

 

“That’s not your call,” Sam said, drawing Bucky and Ryan’s gazes to him.  “It’s ours.  Like it or not, we’re staying.”  He turned to Strange, hanging back from the group by a few feet, watching with a carefully blank stare.  “You wanna leave, do it now.  You wanna be one of us, you got one chance.”

 

A pointed throat-clearing cut off any reply.  The attendant was back, and the huge, black doors were open.  Through the doors, in a vast, open room sat a half-circle of people, cold gazes all fixed on Ryan.

 

It was time.

 

Instinctively, she grabbed for Bucky’s hand.  They gripped each other for dear life, marching forward without looking back.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

Of all the places she’d seen in Wakanda so far, the council room was the largest and grandest.  A henge-circle of metal and stone columns rose to the sky, anchored to a floor of glass over steel like the spokes of a wheel.  Stories-high, fossil-like murals of animals – a rearing horse, the skeleton of a swordfish, a snake coiled to strike, a panther mid-roar – loomed on the walls like dead, forgotten gods.  Along the back was a glass-paneled wall overlooking the city, the window ledge raised a few steps up, circling behind the columns to the front of the room.  Every few feet stood a warrior woman, spines straight as their spears, waiting.

 

In the middle of the room was a huge, clay stone dais.  Silver-steel chairs sat in a semicircle below a raised throne of dark red wood, with a tall, circular back like a hovering halo.  Upon the throne sat T’Challa, straight and noble, looking as kingly as... well, Ryan had never seen a king before, but to her mind, he fit the bill. 

 

Next to him stood his sister, Shuri, in a dark tunic-dress over black leggings and shoes, hair in tight, styled braids.  On closer inspection, what Ryan had thought were piercings on her dark face were tiny circles of white paint, perfectly even in size and spacing.  It was an odd relief.  If their teenage princess really had her entire face pierced all over, there was no way Ryan was tough enough to impress them.

 

At T’Challa’s right hand sat his mother, her white ensemble and headdress replaced with deep, intense black.  The look of distaste, however, like Ryan was mud on her perfect heels, was the same as before. 

 

T’Challa wore black, too, and a pang went unbidden through Ryan’s heart.  Jesus, his dad had died just a few days ago.  Shuri’s dad, too, and the Queen’s mate, Ryan assumed.  Her scared, selfish side thought they could be handling it better, but she knew grief too intimately to not feel for them a little. 

 

There were four other people as well, seated in the chairs around the throne.  Three wore dark robes or tunics and shawls, but Ryan’s eye was drawn to a man in a saturated teal suit, surprisingly modern-cut.  When she reached his face, though, there were giant, round discs in his lip and earlobes, stretching the skin to huge lengths.  The sight startled her, and she dropped her gaze before he could see.            

 

The attendant led them forward to the edge of the dais.  More warriors stood at the ready around the council members, everyone staring silently at her. 

 

A stray thought crossed her mind, and she just choked down a nervous chuckle, wiping a shaking hand dry on her skirt.  Jury of her peers, indeed.  She was probably the only redhead in the entire country.

 

The attendant said something in a fast, throaty language, interspersed with clicking sounds.  It was like nothing she’d ever heard before, the sounds mixing to mush in her ears.  But to her great surprise, she felt a small, tentative tug on the bond in her mind as he spoke.  Hesitating just a moment, Ryan opened her side to Bucky’s.  Their consciousnesses barely brushed, both sides carefully concealing everything but the thoughts they sent. 

 

_I can understand them_ , Bucky said, and Ryan blinked in surprise.

 

_How?_

 

The slightest tinge of old pain leaked through with his reply.  _Haven’t found a language yet they didn’t stuff up my brain.  Almost grateful, right now._

 

He silently translated the attendant’s words as the man continued aloud.  _Presenting to you, venerable Council, the accused –_ “Ree-un Grayn,” was her name in his thick accent – _and accomplices, known to the Americans as ‘The Avengers’._ The attendant tried his best with the other names, too, but he clearly had never heard English spoken by a native. 

 

Then, he bowed deeply, and shot a chilly glare at Ryan as well.  Bucky nudged her with his mind before letting go of her hand, imitating the bow perfectly.  The others bowed, too, and just a beat too late, Ryan drew on her ancient knowledge of fourth grade ballet class and curtseyed as prettily as she knew how. 

 

A cruel snicker came from princess Shuri’s direction, but a sharp glare from her mother silenced the room again.  Ryan’s cheeks flushed.  Off to a good start, then.

 

“Step forward,” the attendant said, and the only place to go was atop the dais.  Her feet felt fused to the floor, though.  Bucky squeezed her hand as he made to step first, only to halt as every spear in the room pointed to his throat at once.

 

“The _accused_ ,” the attendant growled, “step forward.”

 

With a rush of syllables, Bucky spat Wakandan at him, the meaning of the words filtering through the bond.  _You accused us all.  Be specific_.

 

_Bucky!_

 

The surprise on the Wakandans’ faces at Bucky speaking their language quickly morphed to annoyance, and T’Challa spoke before anyone else could.  “Miss Green,” he said, calm and even, “come forward, please.  Sergeant Barnes, your time to be heard will come next.”

 

Okay, Ryan thought quickly, static buzzing in her brain as her sweat-slick hand slid reluctantly from Bucky’s.  Okay, good, they’re gonna let the others talk.  I just have to talk first.  Cool, cool, great!

 

Apparently, her mental panic went through to Bucky, because he suddenly grabbed her hand again.  “ _Deich soicind de mhisneach_ ,” he said.  _Ten seconds of bravery._

 

In that moment, Ryan loved him more than she knew was possible.  With that feeling strengthening her, she closed the bond and stepped onto the dais, coming to a stop in the center of the half-circle.

 

Alright.  Courage time. 

 

Lifting her chin, she looked T’Challa straight in the eye, ignoring the eyes boring into her skin on all sides.  She swallowed once, throat dry.  Here goes nothing. 

 

“Thank you for the dress,” she said, no louder than a normal conversation. “And the rooms to stay in.  Your home is very beautiful.”

 

His eyebrows jumped, a surprised half-smile on his lips.  He relaxed back in the throne, crossing his legs at the ankles.  “You’re welcome.”  He glanced down her form, smile turning to a smirk as he landed on her tattered sneakers.  “I apologize if the shoes were not to your liking.”

 

A council member made a noise of impatience, but Ryan ignored her.  “There were only heels,” she said.  “I don’t wear them anymore.”

 

“Mm, yes.  I’ve been told they can be uncomfortable.”  His smile widened a tooth or two, clearly enjoying the little game. 

 

Ryan wasn’t playing, however.  “The last man to force me to wear heels,” she said, hands gripping her skirt, “was my rapist, when he kidnapped me.”

 

T’Challa’s grin vanished.  The room suddenly dropped ten degrees colder, the feeling of eyes on Ryan’s back intensifying twofold.  Everyone was silent, her pounding heart the only sound Ryan could hear.

 

“I see,” T’Challa eventually said.  “I apologize again.  There was no offense meant, Miss Green.  And I commend your bravery, in telling us this.”

 

“And what,” the Queen suddenly spoke up, tone frigid, “is your meaning, exactly, in telling us this?  I doubt you are unaware, Miss Green, that you stand accused of high treason against the kingdom of Wakanda.  You have only now to present your case.  I suggest you start.”

 

Ryan took a deep breath to quell the rising anger in her gut.  She could do this.  She _would_ do this.  “It’s a long, horrible story,” she said, and the rustle of Strange’s cape reached her ears.  “The short version is, last December, I was kidnapped.  Before that, I was on the run from the Avengers, accused of crimes I didn’t commit.  And before that, I was homeless on the streets of New York.”

 

She met the queen’s gaze, steady and unwavering.  “I was homeless because when I was eleven years old, my parents were murdered by terrorists.”

 

The impatient councilwoman from before emitted an even more impatient noise before speaking.  “Is this meant to inspire pity?  We are here for truth, not stories, _umntwana._ ”      

 

“And I’m telling the truth!” Ryan snapped, anger rising to the surface.  She whirled back to T’Challa, clenching her shaking fists.  “I hid my abilities for my entire life!  When my parents were murdered, I did _nothing_ – I went hungry and cold and alone instead of using them – when the Avengers turned on me, I didn’t hurt anyone!  When Kilgrave – “ her voice broke, hot tears spilling down her cheeks – “when that fucking bastard _raped_ me and experimented on me and killed people in front of me, I – I…”

 

The words stuck fast, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.  Her sobs echoed through the cavernous room, tears blurring her vision until she couldn’t see.  No one spoke, or moved, or did anything as she fell apart.

 

Finally, with a few gasping breaths, Ryan managed to look up at T’Challa again.  His dark, handsome face was wan, drawn with shock.  Shuri looked even worse beside him.  Even the Queen looked shaken. 

 

“I didn’t kill your dad,” Ryan choked out.  “I wouldn’t.”

 

Before he could reply, another councilmember stood up.  A man this time, in deep blue robes and an ugly sneer.  “And where,” he said coldly, “is the proof of this tale?”

 

“With us!”

 

Tony stormed forward, ignoring the spears about to skewer him before T’Challa waved them down, stopping at Ryan’s side.  “I took Ryan into my home.  And I lied to her face every day until I tried to lock her up in a SHIELD cell.  When she tried to defend herself, I shot her, point-blank.  If a real hero hadn’t found her that night, she’d have bled out in an alley, alone.”

 

“And we’re meant to believe the attack on your property was not her revenge?” the man shot back.  “We’re meant to believe, with her abilities, she let her life to be threatened?  Allowed her body to be violated?  Ridiculous.”

 

A surge of utter hatred, pure and poisonous, shot through Ryan’s boiling veins.  She was so furious, she couldn’t even speak. 

 

Thankfully, Bucky and Sam did, surging onto the dais together. 

 

“ _Allowed?_ ” Bucky whispered, and it was the most dangerous sound she’d ever heard.  It was quiet as a breath, but rang through the room like a bell.  His metal hand settled on her shoulder, cool and grounding.  He said nothing else, but the councilman visibly paled, though he stayed standing.

 

“I wasn’t involved with turning Ryan over to SHIELD,” Sam said.  The words were even, but anger simmered an inch from the surface.  “But I was part of the rescue team that went up against Kilgrave.  And we _lost_.  He had us lined up on the lawn, guns to our heads.  The only reason I’m alive is because of Ryan.  She saved my life.”

 

“I’ve known Ryan for exactly one day,” Strange spoke up.  He stepped onto the dais at last, cape rippling without any wind.  “And the first thing I figured out was that she’s possibly the most powerful single individual on the planet.  The second was, she doesn’t give a fuck about it.  She’d rather laugh at shitty jokes with her brother, or make friends with the stranger in weird clothes.”

 

He stood on Bucky’s right.  “I was tracking the girl who attacked in New York before I had any idea Ryan existed.  I have no stake in the Avengers, or Wakanda, or anything that happened before yesterday evening.  But I’m on her side.” 

 

Together, they formed a front line with Ryan in the middle.  With more bravery than she felt, Ryan looked to T’Challa, jaw set with determination. 

 

T’Challa nodded once, slowly.  Then he rose to his feet with a smooth, loping grace.  “I have heard enough,” he said.  “I saw with my own eyes that there was another who shared Miss Green’s abilities.  Honored council, Mother, sister, you have heard the testimonies of myself, the accused, and witnesses.  I am convinced.  Miss Green is innocent.  If anyone doubts, ask your mind now, or silence it forever.”

 

For a moment, no one spoke.  Ryan’s held her breath.  Was this it?  Did they really do it? 

 

“Yeah, I got a question,” a loud, cocky voice drawled from behind. 

 

Ryan whirled around, Bucky’s arm already held protectively in front of her.  A black man, dreads knotted stylishly on his head, high-tech tac gear across his chest stood with his head cocked to the side, a plain manila folder in one hand and an ugly smile on his face.

 

Instantly, the warrior guards surged forward like a tidal wave.  But the man didn’t fight back at all as he was subdued, knocked to his knees with a ring of spear-tips an inch from his neck.  He was fixed on Ryan, eyes glittering with excited malice.

 

T’Challa stalked forward off the dais, anger darkening his scent like a thundercloud.  “Who are you?”

 

“You don’t know, daddy’s boy?”  The man sounded like an American, Ryan noted with surprise, tinged with that sort of Black accent Sam sometimes effected, the one she heard on the streets of New York , D.C. and Boston alike.

 

“Your life hangs on this answer,” T’Challa said coldly.  “Who are you?”

 

The man smirked, then answered in a quick spew of Wakandan.  The councilmembers all gasped and shouted over each other, the Queen jumping to her feet.  Ryan whipped her head up to Bucky.  He shook his head, eyes narrowed.  Not a name he knew, but apparently an important one to everyone else.

 

T’Challa held up a hand for silence.  “My cousin or not, N’Jadaka,” he said, and Ryan’s jaw dropped, “this is a private meeting.  What do you want?”

 

His grin was shark-like, cold as the bottom of the ocean.  “Name’s Erik nowadays.  And can’t a brother visit home?  I brought presents.”  He nodded at the folder he’d carried, now in the hands of a warrior beside them.  “Go on.  Unwrap ‘em.”

 

“Enough!” the Queen suddenly snapped.  “T’Challa, we have entertained this charlatan long enough.  Take him away!”

 

“Wait,” T’Challa ordered.  He held out a hand for the folder, not taking his eyes off Erik.  “We shall rest this matter now.”  With that, he flipped it open, just a few sheets of white paper visible to Ryan inside.

 

Then, he turned slowly back to Ryan, considering her with a cautious look, almost bordering suspicion.  Her heart plummeted to her shoes.  There was only one real secret left he didn’t know.

 

Erik’s eyes landed on Ryan again.  “My question for little miss Green,” he said, “is just how is one man able to stop a whole team of so-called superheroes coming to rescue her?  How does one man rape someone who topples buildings?  And how does one little girl take that powerful man out with a single word?”

 

Ryan shook from head to toe, breath fast, ears ringing with panic.  T’Challa slowly closed the folder, staring at her.  His voice was soft, almost disbelieving.

 

“Mind control.”

 

Erik grinned, cruel and sharp.  “Your king ain’t fit for the job,” he announced to the room at large.  “Can’t even see a little white girl pulling his strings.  So I’m taking the throne.”    

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I tried really hard to get this up like a week ago. But I've been stressing about The Future super hardcore, so I went and got a mani/pedi and went camping with the fam (which surprisingly wasn't a disaster!!) to relax, but now I'm home and IMMEDIATELY STRESSED ABOUT THE FUTURE AGAIN JFC
> 
> Don't worry, though, I've got the next chapter planned out in my head already, so hopefully it won't be a huge wait! In the meantime, if you wanna send some good vibes my way, I'd appreciate it <3


	16. In Which Steve Muses In His Sleep, Darcy Feels Guilty, and Ryan Saves Everyone Without Really Meaning To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to piece his scattered mind back together, but doesn't get too far. Clint, Darcy and Natasha all deal with their circumstances as best they can. And for once, Ryan just being herself doesn't get her into trouble, even in the worst of circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End-of-last-chapter recap:
> 
> After a rocky start in Wakanda, Ryan's dragged in front of the Tribal Council to face judgment for high treason. She and the others mount a good defense, but just when they've started to sway everyone, Erik Killmonger waltzes in. He has a file that reveals Ryan's darkest secret - mind control - to the Wakandans, and declares he's taking the throne.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Steve was dreaming.

 

Peggy sat in a pool of glowing orange from the streetlamp outside.  The rest of the room was dark, shadows in shades of black.  Beside him, gauzy curtains fluttered in a barely-there breeze, the window cracked open to let in fresh night air.

 

Fresh.  No sharp sting of cigarettes, or sour, choking exhaust.  No bodies crammed close, sweat and worse streaming down in the slow, stagnant heat of New York in summer.  No endless swarms of people, shoving through shared space like they owned the thick, humid atmosphere they swam through.  No screaming sirens, cursing cries, never-ending noise ringing for miles through the air.       

 

Huh.  Maybe he was sick of city life.  His subconscious sure seemed to have a low opinion of it right now.

 

Steve took another deep breath, in through his nose.  Hell, it smelled almost sweet.  Cool, but soft, not crisp.  Springtime air, hinting at a bright summer ahead. 

 

Peggy was typing in the light of the streetlamp.  Quiet, even clacking on a shining black typewriter, pausing only to proof the last phrase for errors.  There was a slight wobble when she stretched her pinky finger to press a ‘q’, the northwest leg of the scarred, stained desk shorter than the other three.

 

 _Ding!_  

 

Peggy reached the end of the line.  Her right hand shone pale as a ghost, stretching from shadows to push back to the start.  Again, she started typing.

 

Steve sat on the box seat of the windowsill.  In the quiet dark, he looked away from her. 

 

“Almost finished, darling,” Peggy murmured.  “SSR reports wait for no man, and less for a woman, naturally.”

 

“Take your time,” Steve whispered back.  He closed his eyes, breathing slow, careful, even. 

 

There were no stars, no moon outside the window.  He’d searched for hours.  Just the single dim, stagnant, humming streetlamp, hovering permanently in place. 

 

He’d almost written it off as a fluke – that strange liminality that creeps in like fog at hours simultaneously too late and too early, the silent eeriness of busy spaces found empty and bare – until he tried to find the office door, and couldn’t.

 

He knew he was dreaming.  He’d woken up, and Peggy hadn’t been there.  The thought hurt like hell, so he shoved it away for – fuck, any other time but now.  Not while she was still sitting three feet away from him, even just in his head. 

 

But Bucky _had_ been there.  Real.    

 

Bucky’s arm was metal now.  A beautiful machine.  Must’ve taken years to perfect.

 

For the dozenth time, eyes still screwed tight, Steve replayed what he could remember. 

 

Late winter, early 1945.  His mate… gone. 

 

After, he knew he’d lost some time.  A few days, a week, a few weeks – he didn’t know.  But soon after, he’d kissed Peggy for the first time, knowing in his heart it was the last.

 

She’d talked to him until the end.  He mentally skipped the details of brawling with Schmidt – the Nazi fucker deserved whatever hell he’d been sucked into, and that was that – but he held onto Peggy’s voice like the lifeline it’d been. 

 

They’d made plans for their first date. 

 

Jesus and Joseph.  Steve felt like a bastard.  How dare he make her promises he knew wouldn’t come true?

 

And then… he was awake again.  He hadn’t questioned it, not when Bucky – his heart, his mate – _mo anamchara_ – was back from the dead.  And apparently, unsurprised to see him.

 

He’d woken up, and they’d been on some mission.  Which meant Steve had lost time again.  Potentially, a long time.

 

He ran through the names Staff Sergeant Wilson had recited.  Sam Wilson: male, Beta, USAF.  Unusual rank, if only for the color of his skin.  The Force was even worse for racism than the Army at times.  One of those Red-Tails from Tuskegee, maybe?

 

Agents Romanoff and Barton – now there was a clue.  A female Alpha and male Beta, a mated pair, the USSR and America. 

 

Having broken a few dozen of them, Steve was familiar with U.S. military laws, written and unwritten.  Female Alphas in the field were never paired with anyone but a male Alpha.  Mates were _never_ paired together, period.  And a Soviet working on domestic soil? 

 

Steve took a deep breath and reopened his eyes.  The buzzing, hovering orange light still shone, unchanged.  How long had it been?

 

He shook his head, eyes dropping shut, and continued.  Dr. Stephen Strange.  The last name fit the bill, by visuals alone.  No real clues there, though.

 

He hadn’t caught the names of the African man and women.  And with no knowledge of their culture, no more clues, either.

 

That left the civilian.  The Omega girl… with glowing hands and eyes. 

 

What on God’s green earth could do that to a person?  Radiation?  Some kind of… mutation?  Jesus H, had someone _experimented_ on her?

 

He almost laughed.  He shouldn’t be shocked.  After all, he’d let the army experiment on him.  Then again, unlike her, he didn’t glow in the dark when he got upset.  Whatever else she could do, it seemed a shit deal. 

 

Was she their target?  Try as he might, Steve couldn’t recall any details of the mission they’d been on.  Must’ve been an extraction – Wilson said he’d been hit by a chemical agent, enemy fire – why else would a civilian be there?

 

Obviously she wasn’t an ordinary Jane, though.  If someone, some group – the Army or otherwise – had done something to her, like they’d done to him… And why would they send him and Buck and agents and Sergeant Wilson, if the army was behind it?  She’d have been in their custody all along.  Unless…

 

Was she their  _target?_    

 

Unbidden, his eyes snapped open.  Dread and rage rushed through him in equal parts, fueled by a wave of fierce protectiveness, surging from as deep inside as his own bones.  He held back a snarl, chest rumbling with the effort.  The feeling was so strong it startled him. 

 

“Steve?”

 

He looked quickly over to Peggy.  She frowned at him in concern.  “Is something wrong, darling?”

 

Slowly, he shook his head.  “Sorry, Peg.  Head’s in the clouds.”

 

She smiled.  “I’m almost done, I promise.  Shall we go for a nightcap after?”

 

He nodded like that was actually possible, and Peggy went back to her work, and he went back to his.  His heart was still racing.    

 

No.  She couldn’t have been their target, she…

 

No.  It didn’t make sense.  Bucky, the others, they’d introduced her, let her stand by them.  Listened to her when she’d spoken.    

 

And… she’d called him Steve.  Asked if he was okay.  Her eyes – god, they were big and blue as the summer sky.  She’d looked so worried.

 

He sighed, slow and deep, calming.  Closing his eyes once more, he listened to the clacking of Peggy’s typewriter, the creak of the table as it shifted, the hum of the streetlamp outside until they all faded to black, lulled to nothingness as his mind wandered.  Only one question was on it now.

 

Who the hell was Ryan Green?

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

“We should’ve heard from them by now, we – “

 

“Babe, I’m worried too, but _please_ , would you stop fucking pacing?!”

 

Clint paused to glare daggers across the kitchen island at Darcy, who gave just as good as she got.  After a moment, though, they dropped their gazes simultaneously to the concrete countertop.  A ceramic salad bowl of greens and tomatoes and chicken sat untouched between them, lettuce slightly wilted in the heat.  The paranoid wisdom of a past life of crime meant he and Natasha had safe houses in every corner of the country, but Bispee, Arizona wasn’t his first choice in late August. 

 

“Fuck,” Darcy muttered brokenly, and Clint looked up to see her drop her head in her hands.  “I shouldn’t have told you guys so soon.”

 

“What?  No, Darce – “

 

“I’m, like, barely three months along!” she inserted, voice high and thin.  “We didn’t need to – if Ryan – “

 

He had his arms wrapped around her, head pulled to his chest before he realized he was moving.  Darcy sat on a rickety wooden stool, creaking and tipping towards him as he held her tight.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair.  She shuddered against him, and he stroked soothingly down her back.  “I should be focused on you.”

 

Darcy stiffened, then pulled back to glare at him, eyes rimmed red.  “Uh, no!  Wrong!  We shouldn’t even be here, we shouldn’t have left all of them to – “

 

“To keep our child safe?” Clint said.  “Ryan was the first to say we had to go.”

 

“Of course she did, the stupid – when has she ever thought about her own safety – you should go, you can help!”

 

Clint shook his head.  He’d made the same argument to himself all night and day, ever since they’d flown Agent Fitz back to the nearest SHIELD bunker, stolen a reinforced SUV from Coulson, and dropped off the grid.  But every time he found himself staring at the house’s weathered, sun-beaten front door, his common sense returned.  “We’re working the investigation side.  They’re halfway across the world by now.  Ryan is with Tony and Sam and her mates and a wizard and the king of a whole goddamn country.  Hell, at this point, we’d be overkill.”

 

Darcy looked ready to argue some more, so he leaned in close and kissed her.  She sighed, but returned the kiss, lingering against his lips.  He brushed a hand down her back again, distracting himself with the feel of her, her scent.  His mates were his only comfort right now, and they were stuck here awhile.  Might as well take advantage.

 

He kissed up and down her cheek, across her nose to the other, gentle and slow.  A hint of salt lingered, and he kissed it away. 

 

“I love you more than anything,” he murmured, breath ghosting over her ear.  “That’s why I’m here.”

 

A low rumble of approval, and he and Darce looked behind him to see Natasha, lounging against the side of the refrigerator.  Her hair lay wet from the shower, freshly-soaped skin luminous and pale, peeking out from under a scarlet, silky bathrobe.  She smirked at them, eyes slanted like a satisfied cat.

 

“ _Solnishka.  Kotyonok_ ,” she said, Alpha voice purring, and Clint shivered with sudden pleasure, Darcy gasping quietly in his arms.  “It’s late.  Come to bed.”

 

Interest in the proposal bloomed in Darcy’s scent, and Clint knew his own did the same.  The next moment, though, hers was laced with a sour, biting guilt, and she dropped her eyes back to the counter. 

 

“I don’t think I can sleep,” Darcy muttered.  “You guys go ahead.”

 

Natasha slinked forward, leaning in first to kiss Clint hello, then to gently take Darcy by the chin and turn her back.  “Darling.”  She pressed her lips just below Darcy’s jaw, and Darcy bit back another gasp.  “We’re not going to sleep.”

 

She brushed her lips over that spot again, then gently scraped with her teeth.  Darcy moaned low, eyes dropping shut.  Clint wanted to hear that again, so he kissed her there on the other side, then on the fluttering pulse in her neck.  Natasha hummed in approval, and Clint stroked his hand up Darcy’s thigh. 

 

“You’re… just doing this to distract me,” she said breathlessly, trying and failing to sound annoyed.   

 

“And it’s working,” Natasha whispered against her.  She paused a moment, just holding her.  “Our die is cast for now, _kotyonok_.  We’re doing all we can.  And I miss you.  Come be with me tonight.”

 

Darcy whined, then roughly grabbed at Natasha, crashing their lips together.  Without further ado, Clint yanked his shirt over his head, threw it to the floor, and pressed himself against them.  Darcy broke the kiss only to latch onto him, and he groaned with pleasure, muffled deep in her mouth.  With a firm, guiding hand on the back of their necks, Natasha led them down the hall to the bedroom, then shut the door behind them.

 

Later, Darcy was dead-to-the-world asleep between them, hair in a tousled mess and a sheet half-pulled over her bare chest.  Natasha lay with a possessive hand on her hip, Clint facing them both, legs tangled together. 

 

Natasha lifted her hand to stroke down his arm.  Her eyes glittered in the moonlight from the window, soft blue glowing off the desert sands.  “Do you need convincing too, _solnishka moya_?”

 

He half-smiled, shaking his head.  “No,” he whispered back.  “But I wish I had your confidence.”

 

Her nails gently scraped down his side, just the way he liked.  He shivered, wishing she was close enough to kiss.  He settled for leaning into the touch, and Natasha did it again, then again.

 

“I care about Ryan too, you know,” she murmured, still stroking him.  “She’s been so good to everyone else I love.  How could I not?”

 

“Ain’t it about time we return the favor?” Clint said, eyes drifting shut.

 

“Mm,” Natasha hummed.  “We will.  I swear.”

 

With that promise, Clint finally fell asleep.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

_Can’t even see a little white girl pulling his strings.  So I’m taking the throne._

 

Okay.  Time to go.

 

The council room was in an uproar, the Wakandans shouting at Erik, at the guards, at each other.  A dozen spearpoints aimed at Ryan’s neck, while Bucky, Sam, Tony and Stephen immediately formed a protective circle around her.  T’Challa stared at the folder in his hands, the one that just revealed her darkest secret to the world.  While he hadn’t ordered the guards to kill them in the shocked seconds since Erik’s announcement, Ryan wasn’t waiting for him to change his mind. 

 

She threw open the bond to Bucky.  _Is there a plan, or do we just book it?_

 

His mind was racing down a thousand avenues, a hundred strategies, but they were all heading for the same place.  _On my mark, throw everyone but us to the ground and haul ass.  We’ll cover your exit.  Get to Steve, get outside.  We’ll meet you there._

 

In his mind, Ryan saw a flash of his plan, and she squeezed his hand tighter in alarm.  _Do you know how to fly their spaceship-plane-things?!_

 

 _Nope_.  His eyes narrowed, body tensing.  _There’s more guards coming.  Do you need my help to get through?_

 

There were a lot already, but with carte blanche to use her powers, she could do it.  Guns were a lot scarier than spears.  Bucky nodded, understanding, then shifted forward ever-so-slightly.  Ryan felt Sam do the same on her right, and the whine of Tony’s armor-suit repulsor reached her ears.  _Three, two -_   

 

_BOOM!_

 

Ryan startled, whirling around.  A shockwave rumbled through the ground, but the explosion’s sound was muffled, outside and far away from the palace.  But the back of the room was a giant, curved window looking down onto the city, and thick, black smoke rushed up from its center.

 

Ryan gasped, then dashed past Tony, the council members, and a half-dozen guards, pushing aside spearheads with a thought.  She pressed herself against the window, squinting at the scene below even as footsteps ran up behind her.

 

“Oh my god – the trains!  Bucky, the trains crashed, one of them’s falling off the rail!”

 

Bucky ran up, making to shield her behind him again, but she ducked around his grab.  Everyone else in the room stared past them out the window in shock.  “Stephen!” Ryan shouted.  “Come on!”

 

He startled, shooting her a confused look.  Ryan threw her hands in the air.  “Portal us there already!  We have to go help!”

 

He blinked once, then grabbed for his two-finger ring, fumbling in his haste.  He raised his left hand, swung his right in a circle, and a huge ring of orange sparks appeared.  Screams and yells and smoke poured through, obscuring the view. 

 

Without a beat of hesitation, she grabbed Bucky’s hand, and together, they sprinted into the portal and out the other side.

 

Glass turned to pavement under their feet, and they emerged onto a street in chaos, air thick with dust and screams as hundreds of people ran, cars crashed and alarms blaring.  Sam, Tony and Stephen jumped out of the portal before it disappeared, staring up with them at the horrible sight above.

 

Three stories up, a rail line passing over the highway below creaked and groaned, slowly sagging under the weight of two trains smashed into one, a dozen cars lit with flames and pouring black smoke.  One end of the crash dangled off the rail and over the river, that wide, slow waterway the city was built around.  Below the rail, the highway was clogged with horrible pile-up crashes and dozens of cars stuck in the middle, some even right beneath the trains.

 

Sirens mingled with the screams and groans and running footsteps, but too far away, and only slowly growing closer.  It was up to them.

 

On instinct, Ryan whirled around to Sam.  Incredibly, the others looked to him, too, awaiting orders. 

 

Sam nodded with a grim authority.  “Bucky, get Ryan safely to the river, then you both stream the water up to put out the fires.  Strange, get everyone off those trains ASAP and start triaging.  Don’t worry about the car crashes for now, leave them for EMS.  Tony, get the end of the train back up and don’t let that rail bend any further, or we’re all dead.  Go!”

 

With a whoosh, Tony in his metal suit blasted off into the air, and Strange leapt off from the ground too, cape rippling as he flew towards the train.  Sam produced a small box, pressed the red button, and his wings popped out like Tony’s suit.  He snapped on his flight goggles and took off towards the train too as Bucky hoisted Ryan into his arms.

 

“Hold on tight,” he murmured in her ear, then sprinted full-speed into the fray, dodging people running the other way and leaping across overturned cars in a single bound.  He was fast as a car himself, and Ryan tucked her face into his neck for safety, wind stinging her eyes and rushing in her ears. 

 

When the whooshing stopped, Ryan opened her eyes.  They were on a grassy bank beside the river, the entire car hanging off the rails just over their heads.  Inside the windows, Ryan saw people pounding on glass, screaming and crying, clutching each other in terror.  Sam and Strange rocketed into view, zipping around but not opening any windows or doors.  With a sinking horror, Ryan realized they were trying to find a way in that wouldn’t send plumes of fresh oxygen toward the fire, engulfing everyone left.

 

Bucky set her down, then grabbed her by the shoulders.  “Be careful – if we hit the train too hard, we’ll knock it off the rails.”  He hesitated a split second.  “I need your help controlling the water.”

 

Ryan nodded quickly and yanked open their bond again.  _Just do what I do_ , she thought, and her hands ignited with blue light, power echoing across the bond as Bucky’s lit vivid gold.  As one, they threw out their hands towards the river, and the water frothed and churned like a storm.  Together, they pulled the water up and up until it was a tidal wave a hundred feet high, and with a smooth twist of their arms, it streamed through the air and onto the wreck.

 

There was an almighty roar as the fire quenched to nothing.  White steam mixed with smoke in an enormous cloud above.  Tony quickly zoomed in and grabbed the dangling car, suit lifting it smoothly back onto the track.  The rail groaned under the weight but held steady, Tony flying underneath to shoot laser beams here and lift via rocket power there.  Ryan had no clue what he was doing, but his genius engineering brain seemed up to the task.

 

Sam and Stephen finally got inside the train, and one at a time, started flying people to the ground.  Bucky was already running to help, moving people who couldn’t off to safety on the riverbank.  But the few already down were bloodied and screaming, and Ryan searched frantically for some way to help.  She had no medical experience, and the rescue was taking too long, there was still the whole other end of the train –

 

An idea – crazy, but just maybe doable – popped into her brain, and she dashed forward to grab Bucky’s shoulder.  “Bucky!  The train –  we need to open the sides, then freeze the river!”

 

Across their bond, she sent her full idea, and the briefest glimpse of pride flashed from Bucky’s side as he dashed them both toward the center of the crash.  “Wilson!  Strange!  Get back!”

 

They listened, hovering back with curious looks.  Ryan met his eyes, and he nodded.  Then, with a loud grunt of effort, they tore open the train length-wise like a peeling open a metal can.  The creaking, groaning noise was horrendous, but when it stopped, the entire length was exposed to the air, the last of the smoke pouring out. 

 

With a thought, Ryan sent a pulse of energy across the length, gently pushing back anyone near the gaping edge.  Bucky was already at the river, glowing hands spread flat and teeth gritted.  Slowly, the water groaned and froze into ice, spreading out in a circle from the edge where he stood. 

 

Then, Ryan raised another huge wave and sent it flying right at the ragged bottom edge of the train.  A pull of her arms smoothed down the surface, and she clenched her fists to freeze it in midair, hundreds of gaping faces staring at her creation.

 

A giant slide of ice spread along the length of the train, sides raised high, angled low to slope down to the river where Bucky had frozen a hockey-rink sized landing pad.  A few incredulous faces, darkened with smoke, stared down at Ryan.

 

“Come on!” she shouted up, waving frantically.  “It’s safe, hurry up!”

 

No one moved, staring at the unmelting ice, shining a blinding white in the afternoon sun.  Then, a woman clutching a baby, blood dripping from a cut on her face, shoved her way forward.  She tucked the baby’s head into her neck, then launched herself down the slide. 

 

A delighted laugh rung through air as she zipped to the bottom.  Bucky caught her at the end, urging her back onto shore with a pointed, glowing hand and a few words of Wakandan.

 

Suddenly, the floodgates opened.  Hundreds of people threw themselves down the slide, and Ryan clenched her fists to keep the water frozen as they slid to safety.  The ice didn’t so much as drip as everyone evacuated, surging back onto shore, those moving on their own helping those who couldn’t. 

 

“All clear!” Sam yelled from above, and Ryan unfroze the slide and dismissed the water back to the river with a wave of her hand.  It soared over Bucky’s head to rejoin its home, and Ryan saw Bucky mimic her motion to unfreeze the landing pad.  He surfed atop the last small floe back to shore, then hopped onto solid ground, glow dimming from his hands.

 

She felt a surge of pride and joy at the sight.  Two days with his new abilities and he could already do all that?  God, Bucky never ceased to amaze her.  

 

She grinned fiercely, making to run to his side.  Then, she stiffened up, eyes widening.  All around, people pointed and stared at her, sharp syllables in unknown words whispered and shouted alike.  Endless cell phones flashed in the sun, held high and aimed at her.  There was a small circumference the crowd hadn’t breached yet, but a few people were stepping closer now.  Ryan looked everywhere for a path out, but she was surrounded, and her chest tightened up, breath coming faster and faster. 

 

“Bucky,” she gasped weakly, searching frantically through the coming crowd.  She couldn’t see him anymore.  “Bucky!”

 

A rush of hot air blew her hair back, and with a whoosh and clank of metal, Tony landed right beside her.  “Chill out, kid,” he said, voice tinny through the helmet’s speakers.  “This is the best part.” 

 

The suit helmet retreated back, his hair somehow still perfect underneath, and he spread his red-and-gold clad arms wide.  With a winning smile, Tony exclaimed, “Friends!  Wakandans!  Countrymen!  I have but two words for you all.” 

 

His grin became a smirk.  “You’re welcome.”

 

Somehow, more people were staring and pointing, even more cameras flashing as applause broke out across the crowd.  Ryan pressed herself into Tony’s shadow, still searching everywhere for –

 

“Ryan!”

 

Bucky broke through the crowd, knocking away a half-dozen people on both sides with a single push of his arms.  He sprinted to her side so fast he almost blurred, eyes bright with worry.  He checked her up and down with his hands, almost frantic.  “God, sweetheart, tell me you’re okay.”   

 

She couldn’t stand it anymore.  She leapt into his arms, yanked his face to hers, and kissed him.

 

Bucky stumbled back a step, hands instinctively catching her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist.  The next moment, he was kissing her back like he was a drowning man, and she was his air.  Across their bond, joy and relief and love flooded between them in a crashing wave, sucking Ryan under until the world disappeared and all she felt was him.

 

When she pulled back to catch her breath, his eyes glowed a soft gold again.  They closed for a brief second, and a tear leaked out one corner.  Ryan kissed it away from his cheek, and his answering smile was brighter than the African sun overheard. 

 

Then, the world came back in a rush, and ecstatic cheers and riotous applause startled her.  The crowd was bigger than ever, roaring their approval, and Ryan blushed so hard she went dizzy for a moment.

 

Bucky’s chuckle vibrated against her.  He kissed her cheek as he lowered her carefully down to the ground.  Then, he grabbed her hand, yanking her arm straight in the air.

 

“Hey!” he shouted in Wakandan, voice thundering over the crowd.  “Let’s hear it for Ryan Green!”

 

The noise was deafening, pressing on her eardrums, rumbling in her chest like a living thing.  This time, though, Ryan couldn’t help but smile, tears prickling at her eyes.  She blinked rapidly, clutching Bucky’s hand holding hers in the air. 

 

Was _this_ what it was like to have the world not be scared of her?  Well, shit.  She could get used to this.

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

Soon after, Bucky successfully waded them both through the crowd to join up with Sam and Stephen.  They both looked tired but satisfied, supervising the rest of the emergency medical care from afar as the local police and EMTs had finally swooped in and taken over.

 

“That,” Sam said as they approached, “was fucking badass, girl.”

 

“Unorthodox,” Stephen added, quirking an amused eyebrow, “but effective.”

 

Ryan was blushing again but managed to smile at them both.  “Thanks.  But seriously, did you guys see Bucky?!”  She grabbed both of his hands in hers, cheeks aching from her grin.  “You’ve had, like, two days with your new powers, and you froze half the river!  That was so great!”  She turned back to Sam and Stephen, almost bouncing with excitement.  “Wasn’t it awesome?!”

 

A frustrated shout came from behind her. As she turned around, Tony stalked forward, Iron Man suit already tucked away again.  He grabbed her shoulders, glaring down at her.  “Ryan!” he said, shaking her a little.  “Stop.  Being.  So.  Nice!”

 

She gaped up at him.  “Um.  Sorry?”

 

He threw his hands in the air, looking helplessly to the sky.  “I have failed.  I, the lowly human, provide the world’s most glorious examples of basking in superheroic egoism, and the literal goddess can’t hear a ‘good job!’ from guys in a bird suit and a dress.  I’m sorry to inform you, ma’am, but your ability to take a compliment passed away at 11:37 AM this morning after a life-long struggle – “   

 

“Shut up, Stark,” Bucky said.  Stephen was rolling his eyes, but Ryan caught Sam’s eye and giggled with him.  Bucky squeezed her hand, and she looked back to him.  His face was deadly serious, and she sobered up immediately.  “We need a plan.”

 

Strange shrugged.  “Where are we going?”

 

Ryan looked to him in surprise.  Did he really mean that?  “Stephen, I… you don’t have to help, or stay, or anything.  I know you didn’t want to.  And…” 

 

She trailed off, T’Challa’s numbed, flat voice echoing in her memory.  _Mind control_. 

 

But Strange scoffed, giving her an _are-you-stupid?_ look.  “Only an idiot would believe you were mind-controlling anyone.  For god’s sake, you can’t even stop yourself sobbing your eyes out in front of a group of foreign dignitaries.”

 

He tempered the words with a small, sincere smile at the end.  Ryan met it with a wide smile of her own, bubbling up from the ball of warmth glowing in her chest.  He trusted her.  Had a weird way of showing it, maybe, but she didn’t give a single fuck.  There was no way he could ever know how much that meant.

 

“A rather coarse way of putting it, but I do agree,” a new voice piped up.  Ryan whirled around to see T’Challa standing a few feet away.  To her greater surprise, his mother stood beside him, the rest of the council a little further back.

 

The others leapt to their feet, but T’Challa raised his hands, looking Ryan straight in the eye.  “You are not now, nor ever will be, in any further danger from us,” he declared firmly.  “Your brave actions today do not fall on blind eyes.  Whatever your abilities may be, you use them for good.  And my people and I are in your debt.”

 

Then, Ryan’s jaw dropped as he knelt down on one knee on the grass.  His mother bowed her head respectfully, and the council copied her from behind.  Gasps and shocked whispers came from every direction, police herding back crowds gawking at the spectacle. 

 

Ryan took a deep breath, gulped, and came to a decision.  She squeezed Bucky’s hand, then let go, striding forward to T’Challa.  He stood as she approached, towering over her when they stood face-to-face.

 

She hesitated just a moment, then stuck out her hand.  T’Challa smiled, grasped it firmly, and the crowds cheered again as they shook hands.

 

When he released her, his mother stepped forward.  “Miss Green.  I have greatly wronged you, and I apologize from the depths of my heart.  I will never allow my judgment to be so clouded again.”

 

Ryan smiled.  “My name’s Ryan, Your Highness.  It’s nice to meet you.”

 

For the first time, the queen of Wakanda smiled back at her.  “Call me Ramonda, child.  After all this, you’ve earned it.”

 

When Ryan was back in reach, Bucky yanked her into a hug, tucking her head in the crook of his neck.  He smelled like sweat and dust and smoke and her mate, and she gripped him tight as she could.

 

“You're amazing,” he whispered in her ear, and Ryan shivered with happiness.  "I'm so proud of you." 

 

After a minute, though, she pulled back.  Honestly, they were on a roll right now.  Time to squeeze as much good luck in as she could.  “Bucky.”

 

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

 

“Let’s get Steve’s memories back.”            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Ryan and Bucky still have a nice, long talk ahead of them - one kiss didn't fix everything hahaha. I'll update again soon!


End file.
